Madam President
by Verkaiking
Summary: When the woman he loves is elected President of the United States, Robin Locksley's life is turned upside down. As they struggle to find a balance between her new job and his new title as Head of the Secret Service, an unseen threat dares to burn down what they've built together. Can they prevail? (Robin POV - Outlaw Queen AU).
1. Chapter 1

**_Humongous thanks to the ever wonderful Jen for sending encouragement when I needed it and for making the fabulous cover art for this fic (you can view the gorgeousness in its full glory on Tumblr whenever I post these chapters).  
_**

 ** _Alright guys, here we go!_**

* * *

They're all waiting for the final numbers, but anyone who can do basic math knows the end result. She's done it, she's won. After years of hard work and unwavering commitment, she's achieved what she set out to do when she started her career, and he could not be more proud.

Robin Locksley had been working for MI5 with his wife, her as a security strategy consultant, him as chief bodyguard to the British royal family, when death had ripped her from him after childbirth, his grief forcing him to abandon his position and flee any reminder of his Marian's untimely demise. He never thought that packing up his life and moving himself and his then newborn baby boy to the States would bring him so many new adventures, but it had, all in the form of the woman now standing on the side of the stage, waiting to address the crowd.

Robin had relocated to this country on a whim. He'd wanted to start fresh, and marrying Marian (a Boston native and member of the US Armed Forces) had granted him a green card, so he'd thought why not? and hopped on a plane. He hadn't expected to get into the same line of work when he moved, but then the opportunity had presented itself at the governor's office in Maine, the place he'd picked to start anew, and he couldn't resist. It seemed the new governor had taken them by storm, firing every corrupt member of the previous administration, including the head of security, and needed someone who would be her eyes and ears, as well as her protector. Robin had great qualifications for the job and excellent recommendations from his previous employers in London, so less than two days after he'd dropped his CV off at the office, he'd been eagerly offered the position by the Human Resources manager, and he had accepted immediately.

He'd known the new governor by reputation. An academic prodigy turned attorney, graduated from Harvard Law at twenty five, admitted to the bar in four different states. She was a shark, taking almost every big case presented to her and engaging in difficult disputes that she always ended up winning, and then one day she'd quit all that and moved to Storybrooke, a small town in Maine with no real prospects of a big legal career for her, but she'd made it work. There, she'd been elected mayor and had a very successful run thanks to her swift justice and strong demeanor, and that won her the governor's election four years later. At thirty-two, she was the youngest governor the state ever had, and one of the youngest in the country, but instead of being commended for her prowess, she'd been criticized and slammed by the press for being a woman in such an important job. She'd had to work twice as hard to prove herself capable, and she'd succeeded.

The local papers called her the Evil Queen because of how ruthless and resilient she was in her profession, and Robin had already mentally prepared himself to meet a stubborn know-it-all who would fight him 'til the end to get her way, regardless of the safety risks, but it hadn't been that way at all. Instead, he'd been met with a very poised, very intelligent and very, very beautiful woman. Regina Mills.

He'd been fascinated by her the second he met her, and thankfully, their personalities hadn't clashed. Instead, she'd been warm and receptive, had listened to his plans for her security and that of her staff, had taken his opinions into account and even sought out his advice on other matters he probably had no business meddling with, and through it, through that job and her admirable performance, he'd managed to heal, to purge himself of the pain that accompanied thoughts of Marian, to embrace this new life and all the good things that came with it.

Robin had gotten to know Regina better as time passed, had found out she had chosen to move to Storybrooke out of love. A small town professional (even the mayor) had flexible hours and decent pay, and that allowed her to both work and care for her sick husband, whom she'd introduced to Robin two months into their friendship, and Robin, in turn, had introduced them both to his son.

Regina was wonderful with Roland, and Robin enjoyed his work with her, had even become friends with Daniel, playing chess with him on his nights off and sometimes even sharing a beer or two, when they thought Regina was too busy playing with the baby to notice two grown men sneaking booze out of the fridge like underage college boys.

Daniel was a veterinarian with bright eyes and a kind soul, and it was easy to see that he loved his wife deeply, that it pained him that she had to nurse him because he couldn't do it himself, but one look into Regina's rich brown eyes and Robin knew that given the choice, she wouldn't want to be anywhere else. She loved her husband, took pride in him and his accomplishments, and she did not regret a single moment spent with him, regardless of the cancer that was threatening to rip them apart.

Not ten months into her new tenure, right before Roland's first birthday, cancer finally won, claiming Daniel's life after years of battle and leaving Regina devastated. Robin still remembers how her professional mask had slipped, how she'd fallen to her knees on the floor and wept when she got the call from the hospital. He had thrown caution to the wind then and hugged her for the first time, unable to watch her suffer without offering some sort of comfort, and as selfish and horrible as he'd felt for thinking of such things in that heartbreaking moment, for having such an intense feeling towards another woman not a year after his own wife's death, the fact of the matter was that the second he'd had Regina in his arms, he'd wanted to keep her there and never let her go.

Regina threw herself into her work for the next two years, shutting herself off from everyone but him and Roland, breaking down in his arms when the pain of missing her husband became too much, grinning with red-rimmed eyes when Roland would draw her a picture or pick flowers for her and babble her name excitedly. Robin was glad that his little boy was the reason she could still smile, knew that they could help her heal just as she had helped him when she'd given him a chance, and so he devoted himself to doing just that, without ever expecting anything in return, only wanting to help her find joy in life again. He'd wiped away her tears, made sure she ate, brought her coffee in the mornings, when her pain was the strongest because of the nightmares that plagued her, and had her secretary reschedule her meetings when she needed the afternoon off to grieve. Little by little, he'd watched her reclaim her life, and by the time she entered the final year of her term, she was herself again, even though the light in her eyes wasn't as bright as it used to be.

All that time, he'd pined for her, felt this tight pull in his heart whenever she'd so much as breathe near him, and it was agony, not being able to hold her or be close with her like he wanted, but he'd kept his distance anyway, valuing their friendship and putting his respect and admiration for her above his own desires, simply because it was the honorable thing to do. Besides, he knew what the scandalous consequences would be for Regina if he pursued her and someone found out, and he did not want her to go through more scrutiny from the public, especially not after how hard she'd worked to achieve her goals... but then one night they'd stayed late at the office, and things had taken a turn.

She was tired and grouchy, stunning as ever, and he'd made her laugh, something she hadn't done in a very long time, and then he'd kissed her. What's better, she'd kissed him back, and having her return the gesture, tasting her, feeling the texture of her lips after merely dreaming about them, it had made his world explode in wonderful bursts of color and light.

That very night, he'd undressed her slowly, pressing her against her desk and kissing every inch of her skin until she was panting with need, and after she'd come on his fingers, he'd buried himself inside her and gotten lost in the feel of her, in the wonderful sensation of her hips leisurely rolling against his until they'd both reached their peak, his guttural groan of ecstasy joining the breathy moan of his name that had spilled from her lips as she'd come undone beneath him.

After that encounter, it had all turned into somewhat of a game, a delicious game where they would sneak kisses between meetings, where he'd feel her up under the conference table while she struggled to keep quiet. A game where she'd giggle whenever he'd throw a suggestive comment at her, or blush when he'd trail the back of his finger down her cheek, a game where he'd bring her home with him and have her splayed in his bed, her hair tumbling over his pillows, her sweet scent lingering on the sheets even after she'd gone. A game where she'd leave him Terry's chocolate oranges or Cadbury eggs in his office simply because she thought he'd like a taste of home, a game where he'd fallen in love with her little by little, until he was too far gone to care what anyone else would say.

"I want us to go public," he'd told her some six months later, after they'd collapsed on his bed with heavy breaths, and she'd turned her face to his, sheened lightly in sweat, and she had smiled.

"I know you do," she'd replied, but did not acquiesce to his request.

"What's stopping you?" he'd asked, "I know that you have to keep up appearances, but this is your last year in office, and what we have isn't some random dalliance."

She'd sighed, uncomfortable with the subject, and he'd hurried to reassure her.

"I won't leave you if you want to keep this private. That's not what this is about. I want to be with you in whatever way you'll allow me to be, Regina," he'd said with his hand on her cheek, loving the tiny smile he'd coaxed out of her with the gesture, "I just… I'd like to be able to hold your hand when we walk down the street, or take you out to dinner, or just be able to touch you and kiss you without having to check if we're being watched first. I love you, I don't see why we have to hide."

He hadn't realized it was the first time he'd told her of his feelings for her, but _she_ did, and her smile had grown. She didn't return the declaration, however, but dropped a bomb on him instead.

"I'm running for president."

* * *

He'd supported her decision, of course, and since then, it had been an arduous road. Hiding their relationship and fighting about it, making up with hurried kisses and urgent touches while absconding to her office or sneaking off to his house, but she wanted him, wanted them, and that was all he needed. During the race, the press conferences, the primaries, the debates, he'd been there, and through it all, Robin watched over her as he'd always done and made sure her quest for the presidency was as smooth and productive as possible. Because he loved her, and if leading the nation was her dream, he would damn well do everything in his power to make it into a reality.

All of that has led them here, to Washington DC, to this pivotal moment, where she's standing on the stage after being announced as the first female president of the United States, and his heart swells with pride as he watches her take the podium and address her loyal followers. She looks beautiful as always, black pinstripe slacks and blazer, pristine white blouse with a black vest buttoned over it, and matching black heels to finish off the ensemble, lips red and provocative, hair down in perfectly crafted waves over her shoulders. He stares at her as she speaks into the microphone, all the while basking in the knowledge that she's his, that when this day is over, he'll get to cradle her in his arms and taste her lips and tell her how unbelievably proud he is of her.

"… So thank you for believing in me, for showing me that hope is what fuels our souls, hope for the future, hope for prosperity. I promise you, I will work ardently for the next four years to prove worthy of the trust you've placed in me today," she says to conclude, her voice trembling as her eyes search the crowd, and he knows she's looking for him, trying to find him amidst the sea of people yelling their congratulations. She spots him when she looks up a moment later, at the corner booth where he stands above the audience in order to better watch over her, and he grins, mouths an _I love you_ to her and gets a watery smile in return. It's been over a year and a half since he'd first said it, and she has yet to say it back, but he doesn't want to push her, because he knows why she hasn't, knows she's afraid that it will all fall apart at any minute and is simply trying to protect her heart from being broken again. Besides, he doesn't mind, he knows how she feels, she shows him the depth of her love for him in everything she does, even if she refuses to voice it, so instead of fishing for those three marvelous words, he'll wait until she's ready, will support and love her until she's certain they won't crash and burn, no matter how long that takes.

She leaves the stage, and he watches carefully that everything goes to plan, that the small group of men he's chosen to escort her do their job correctly, forming a small perimeter around her, and once she disappears from his sight, he leaves his spot, making his way down and outside as quickly as he can. He gets a glimpse of her climbing into the car, the perimeter still in place, and exhales in relief as the vehicle begins to move, her posse of escorting officers now split into the car in front of hers and the one behind.

"Robin Locksley?" someone asks from behind him, and he turns to find a robust, bald man in a sharp suit waiting for him to answer.

"Yes?"

"I'm Tucker Friar, White House Chief Usher."

"Yes, of course, how may I help you?"

"President-elect Mills will be spending the night at the White House tonight, when the press conference and her private meeting with President King are over. She'll need you there."

"There?"

"At the White House, sir. You'll be running the Secret Service during her time in office. You are to be escorted to the Residence to meet and address the Secret Service, as they will be under your command after the inauguration."

Robin is taken aback by that. He'd assume she'd bring him in as part of her security detail while she was president, but he never expected her to name him _Head_ of the Secret Service. He tells this Friar fellow as much, insisting that surely, there must be some mistake, but the man shakes his head.

"No, sir. President-elect Mills has ordered that you be in charge, she said you two have worked well together for some years now, and she wants someone loyal on the job. It's not uncommon for these things to happen, the former chief will be glad to give you the rundown of things and help you get acquainted with the position until you can run it on your own. After that, he'll become your second in command. Now, if you'll follow me, we'll escort you to the White House and show you your future accommodations."

"I— my boy, I've to—"

"Already taken care of. We've sent a car with an escort to the hotel you've been staying at to bring both your son and his nanny, they'll meet you at the Residence."

"This is madness," Robin says, dumbfounded.

"No, sir," the man replies with an amused grin as he leads him outside and opens the door of a black sedan with tinted windows, gesturing for Robin to climb into it, "this is Washington."

He supposes Friar is right. This _is_ Washington. More than that, this is the _presidency_ , and as the car begins to move through the mini traffic jam caused by the celebrations outside the convention center, it hits him, the realization that the woman he loves has just become the leader of the most powerful country in the world.

Their lives are about to change forever.


	2. Chapter 2

Robin has seen the White House on many occasions, has even been inside it once before. It was under a year ago, right before the primaries, when all possible presidential candidates were invited for a meeting with President King. Robin, as usual, had been in charge of Regina's security, and she'd brought him along and introduced him to the president, a man unworthy of his charge. Leopold King might be the Chief of State, but he'd had a lascivious quality to the way he addressed Regina when they met him, and it made Robin's blood boil. They'd had a fight over it that night in her hotel room, his frustration oozing out when she refused to do anything about it, but in the end, Robin supposes she'd been right, there wasn't much they could've done except start some sort of scandal, and that would not have helped her chances in the race.

This time, everything is different. He is ushered in through a secret entrance on the back of the House, through hidden corridors until they reach a large office with monitors and surveillance gear, several armed agents standing at attention when he walks in. They're all wearing black suits with white shirts and thin black ties, the transparent plastic cord of their earpieces barely visible over the shells of their ears, and Robin realizes that's how he'll have to dress from now on… needless to say, he's instantly annoyed by the prospect.

"I can't tell you how great it'll be to have weekends off and away from these suits," a booming voice greets him, and he turns to find a burly man with a thick beard offering his hand to him. "John Little, current Head. Nice to meet you."

"And you," Robin says, shaking the man's hand and laughing a little at his comment. "I can't tell you how tiresome it'll be to have to wear the suits every single day."

"Ah, been there," John chuckles, bringing Robin closer and clapping him on the back as he guides him through the office, introducing him to the high-ranking officials in charge of security and teaching him a little bit about how it all works. The overall plans seem good enough, not much would need changing, only a few things here and there. He commends the man on his accomplishment, and John grins proudly as he assures Robin that he'll find no finer recruits anywhere else. But then he drags him aside, his next words whispered conspiratorially when he's sure no one is watching.

"Between you and me? I'm glad to be leaving. I meant what I said about the boys, they're good at what they do, not once have they given me a hard time with the work, but President King is not an easy man to work with. And if I have to inconspicuously drive one more mistress out of this place I think my head might explode. It's a wonder the First Lady hasn't killed him yet."

Robin smiles in amusement, shaking his head.

"You won't have to worry about that with President Mills. She's the most decent person I know."

"They all start that way," John says, still skeptical, and Robin supposes he has reason to be, given how long he's been doing this and the people he's been working for, but the comment still rubs him the wrong way.

"She's different. You'll see," he insists.

"Let's hope so. In any case, I'm glad I no longer have to oversee everything, I miss not having to make the decisions around here. I think I'm gonna like following orders for a while instead of giving them."

"What if I order you to bring me a sandwich?" Robin quips.

"I'll do it… and then chuck it at your head," John jokes back, and this is good, this is working. Robin can see himself striking a friendship with the man in front of him, and it puts him at ease to know he'll have trustworthy people around Regina.

"Alright, what's next?" he asks John.

"Hell, my friend. Hell." John smirks as he ushers Robin through the many corridors, teaching him the ins and outs of the White House so that he knows his way around if an evacuation is needed. It turns out the humongous building is full of secret passageways and safe rooms, a couple of bunkers and even a supply closet, should they end up sequestered in one of the safe rooms during some sort of siege. He'd seen similar layouts before, when he worked at the palace, so it's easy for him to remember the key points of access to every secret corridor as John walks him through the whole thing. And if he starts cataloguing every possible way of sneaking into the presidential suite for his own devilish purposes, well, no one needs to know about that.

"Right, now that you've got the basics, you're supposed to meet the new VP in the lounge."

"Mr. Nolan? What does he want with me? And what about Reg—President-elect Mills? Shouldn't I be by her side? What if something happens? She hasn't been sworn in yet, she's vulnerable."

"She'll be fine, we're taking good care of her, don't worry. The press conference is over, my guys have informed me they're two minutes away, and once she's here, she'll go straight to the Diplomatic Reception Room to meet with President King and some of the members of Congress, you're not needed just yet. As for what Nolan wants with you, I've no idea, but he said he has to talk to you before you report back to Tuck to go view your future quarters."

That's… strange, Robin thinks, but shrugs it off and walks behind John as he leads him to the lounge, where the blond man awaits sitting behind a small mahogany desk, looking quite at home despite having only just obtained his new position.

"Robin," he greets good-naturedly. They've built enough of a relationship that they treat each other on first-name basis, but Robin wants to mess with him a little.

"Vice President Nolan," he replies with a raised eyebrow, earning himself a laugh from the man behind the desk. David is your token American golden child, with his big house and white picket fence, a lovely wife and a baby boy on the way. He's beloved by the press, and his credentials present him as a Harvard graduate with lots of contacts and a spotless record, which is another of the many reasons Regina picked him as her right-hand man. It also helps that they've been best friends since they met in law school, giving them the edge of already having built enough trust in each other to carry out their respective duties while working together. In his years with Regina, Robin has come to know David, has come to respect him for being there for her when she needs him, for helping out even when it isn't required of him, aiding her during this path she's set for herself.

There's a friendship between the two men, one based on jokes and fun barbs, and so Robin cannot resist the urge to tease him, bowing low and requesting permission to approach the desk. David laughs.

"I can have you deported for sassing me, you know?" he quips.

"I'm a citizen, remember? Dashing accent aside, I've been as American as apple pie for over a year now," Robin throws back, and David only laughs harder as he gets up and embraces him, clapping him on the back.

"Congratulations, my friend," Robin tells him sincerely, and David nods his head in thanks before gesturing for him to sit.

"You're probably wondering why I've summoned you here…"

"You mean, other than simply because you could?" he asks with a chuckle.

"Very funny," David replies with an amused roll of his eyes, "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"What is it?" Robin is all business now, noticing the serious tone David's voice has taken.

"I wanted to ask you if… well... ah, this is uncomfortable... I just wanted to know where you're at with Regina."

"What do you mean?"

"Are you guys…?"

"Are we, what?" Robin asks, his tone bordering on exasperated. David always was a bit of a mumbler, something that usually wouldn't bother him, really, but right now it does. Especially if he's really trying to ask what he thinks he's trying to ask.

"Look, I know that you and Regina have a… a bond… and I'd just like to make sure what it is you're getting into, here."

"Excuse me?"

"I think you're a great man, Robin, and I'm all for Regina being happy, you know that, but she's politically vulnerable, especially now, you have to be careful."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Robin asks, still playing dumb. He has no idea how much David knows, thinks maybe he just suspects something's going on, and he won't be the one to confirm it.

"I know you like her, and under any other circumstances, I'd say go for it, because I think she could be happy with you, Robin, I really do, but she's the president now. If you start a relationship with her, people will talk, the press will eat her for breakfast and spit her back out. It's a tough job she's just taken on, and she's the first woman to do it, they'll exploit any emotional entanglement as a way to show she's weak and unfit for office." He sighs then, winding down for a moment before he speaks again, "What I'm trying to say is, there's enough pressure on her already, we don't need some sort of fabricated scandal on top of everything else."

Robin clenches his teeth. He sees David's point very clearly, of course, knows he's only trying to protect his friend, but it makes his blood boil that someone who has no idea what he and Regina are to each other would presume to tell him how to act around her. Still, though, and for Regina's sake, he refrains from reacting the way he wants to, lest he discloses details he shouldn't and invite more of David's suspicions to appear.

"I understand," is all he says, and it seems to be enough.

"Good. I'm sorry, I know it's awkward, but I just had to talk to you about it."

"I know. You just want her to be safe."

"I do."

"Well, you needn't worry. I know what's at stake; I won't do anything to jeopardize her career."

"That's good to hear. Thank you… for understanding."

Robin leaves David's office in a terrible mood, desperate to be reunited with his son and spend some time with him before he has to take part in any other work related events. He's tired, cranky, and quite honestly, a little miffed that aside from that brief moment while she was on stage, he has yet to see Regina today.

He meets Mr. Friar in one of the White House living rooms, and suddenly there's a loud scream of "Daddy!" and a mop of brown curls smacks right into him, little arms coming up to hug him.

"Roland!" Robin exhales, finally relaxing now that he has his boy in his embrace.

"Ashley's here, too! Tuck said we get a room all to ourselves, right next to yours!"

"You don't waste any time, do you?" he chuckles at his son, "we won't move here until after the New Year, and it's Mr. Friar, son, you can't call him Tuck just because."

"Oh, nonsense, I asked him to, we're buddies now. Besides, whenever I hear 'Mr. Friar' all I think about is my father and how much he disapproved of my life choices. He wanted me to be a priest, you see," he whispers the last part with a roll of his eyes. "You'd do well to call me Tuck, too, if we are to get along while you're here."

Robin laughs, nods his head, and responds with, "Tuck it is, then."

They are guided through yet another secret passageway, which is probably unnecessary, but it seems Tuck enjoys Roland's enthusiasm, and showing him the super-secret spy route to his room seems as good a way as any to ignite the boy's excitement.

"You'll be staying in these assigned rooms for the night, and should you be pleased with them, you can have them as your permanent rooms when you move in next January. Normally, you'd get the larger bedroom, which is the one Mr. Little is occupying right now. It's more spacious, a lot fancier, but it's a single, not fit for a father and his child and nanny to share for the night, let alone live in it for the next presidential term. I figured you'd prefer adjoining chambers in order to be close to your son, and these are located just as close to the president's bedroom as John's is, which still gives you ample opportunity to check out the surrounding escape routes, should there be an emergency once President Mills moves in. I can move you to the other room in January, though, if you'd like a bigger space for yourself?"

"You'll do no such thing. And you're quite right, I'd rather be closer to my son, I don't care if the room is big or small. I'm sure whatever you picked will work out just fine."

They stop by Robin's room first, and his jaw drops. It's huge (which makes him wonder just how big the other room Tuck offered him is), there's a walk-in closet to the left and a small living area to the right, complete with a couple of armchairs and a coffee table, a large four-poster bed in the center of the space and a shiny wooden desk in the corner, all with lavish, antique colonial decor and fully equipped with state of the art technology (a laptop, surveillance gear connecting him to the main Secret Service office, a secure phone and a few other gadgets he'll have to play with later). There's a big TV mounted on the wall in front of the bed, a small door to the left right beside the closet, connecting him to a full bathroom with pristine ceramic fixings, and on the right beyond the living space is another door, which Tuck informs him is the one that connects this room to his son's.

Roland's quarters are just as big, though they seem a tad less so due to the fact that there's two beds instead of one, a screen separating the two halves of the room so that both the boy and his sitter can have their own space, a big TV sitting on the large dresser placed directly opposite, right next to the entrance to the large double bathroom. There's a small crafts table on Roland's side, a narrow desk on Ashley's near the closet, and a window at the far end of the space, with a nook framed by heavy drapes. Ashley is there, looking through a booklet with the White House seal on it, but she stops when she hears Roland's excited squeals and Robin's greeting.

"I'm so sorry," he tells her when they reach her, "I wasn't expecting us to come spend the night here, let alone move here permanently in two months."

"You didn't think she'd win?"

"Of course I knew she'd win!" he clarifies, "I just… thought I'd be getting an apartment nearby or something, I didn't realize I'd have to move here. I feel like I should've seen it coming."

"You probably should've," she laughs.

"You'll be getting a raise, of course. Though I fully understand if you'd rather stay in Maine."

"Are you kidding?" the girl laughs, "I get to live in the _White House_! I'm not passing that up!"

"Are you sure?"

"Positive, don't worry about it, it's not like I have anyone to go back to. Besides, I'm getting the best roommate in the world."

"Yeah! You hear that, Daddy? I'm best roomeet!"

"Roommate," Robin corrects, shaking his head in amusement before he looks back at the girl and smiles. "Welcome to the White House, then."

"Thank you, sir," she replies with a mock-salute, making a face at him that has Roland rolling with laughter. Robin is relieved that Ashley seems so into the idea of staying, because if truth be told, he doesn't know what he'd do without her.

When Roland was a newborn, Robin didn't know much about how to care for him, and being a single parent, working while raising a child, meant he couldn't always look after his baby boy, so he'd needed someone to help out. He'd put an ad in the local paper and a lovely young girl had shown up, eager to work and earn some extra cash to help pay off her student loans. She is great at her job, and Roland has grown up knowing her and loving her like a big sister, so when the time came for them to head to Washington for the elections, Ashley was instantly on board.

Still, Robin is quite sure neither of them realized how much things would change if Regina won, and he feels a pang of guilt at the idea of this poor girl having to uproot her entire life to come live here with them, but she seems to be really excited at the prospect, and for the first time since the whirlwind of the elections, Robin feels at ease, lets Ashley's enthusiasm seep into him as well. He'll have to get started on packing the second he gets back home, and the thought of arranging the move has a headache brewing, but for now he'll enjoy this, enjoy his son's excited rambles and Ashley's chipper acceptance of the whole thing.

"How's she doing?" she asks when Tuck has left the room.

"I haven't seen her since her speech, but she seemed alright. A little shaken, but that's her."

"I think she'll be great."

"I think so, too," Robin says, unable to help the proud smile that breaks out on his face. Ashley replies with a knowing stare and nothing more, and it's moments like that where he thinks she _knows_ , but whether or not she's figured out that his relationship with the former governor isn't just a professional one, the girl has yet to say so, never asking or commenting about it, and for that, Robin is grateful.

He leaves her and Roland to explore their new lodgings while he's ushered back to John's office and introduced to yet more men and women in the Service, acquainting himself with the new system and the people he'll be in charge of come January. It seems it's all just a bit too much for him right now, though, and all he can think of is Regina. He can't help it, he's worried, wondering how she's doing, wanting nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and find peace in the warmth of her body.

Instead, he's left to wander the corridors for a while, and when he finds an open balcony, he goes to it, enjoying the cold, crisp November air and admiring the many stars that dot the night sky, the wind adding a slow, eerie movement to the cherry trees in the gardens below. It's peaceful enough, and he manages to rein in his anxiety after a few minutes, goes back inside ready to face whatever else John and Tuck have in store for him.

* * *

He doesn't make it back to his room until after midnight, when his son and Ashley are already asleep, so instead of disturbing their slumber to kiss his boy goodnight, he opts for a long, hot shower, playing around with the fancy soaps and shampoos that have been placed for him in the bathroom. He emerges with a fluffy towel wrapped around his waist, grabs a water bottle out of the mini fridge that's been set up near the desk while he was away, and takes a long swig from it, satiating his thirst before continuing his nightly routine. He's pulling his soft cotton pajama pants from his suitcase and putting them on when he hears a loud, annoying chirp from inside the jacket he'd hung on the coat rack.

Robin owns his fair share of incredibly advanced technology, most of which is there to make his job easier. His favorite artifact, however, is not the fancy smartphone, or his laptop, or the yet-to-be-released-to-the-market tablet he got from some corporate investors in one of Regina's conferences a couple of months ago. No, his very favorite device is the tiny, archaic, green-light screen Nokia phone he keeps hidden in his coat. It has no functions other than texting and calling, and a very slow, very pixelated game of Snake to pass the time, but this is the phone that keeps him connected to Regina, the phone that has a twin sitting in her pocket at all times. No one knows they have them, this is _their_ thing.

She'd gotten them as a means to stay in touch, told him it was safer than a smartphone that could easily be hacked, and they only shared the numbers with each other, ensuring that only Robin would be able to contact Regina on it and vice-versa.

The horrible chirping sound that startled him comes from that very phone, and despite his hatred of that blasted monophonic ringtone, he smiles, beams really, because she's texting him, and he's missed her all day.

 _ **RM:** Not even in office yet and I'm already exhausted._

His smile only grows in amusement when he reads her words, shoots her back an immediate reply.

 _ **RL:** I told you we should run off to Hawaii, but oh no, you had to be president…_

Her answer comes not thirty seconds later.

 _ **RM:** I know, right? What the hell was I thinking? Hawaii sounds wonderful. Let's run now ;)_

 _ **RL:** And miss the opportunity to boss the country around for the next four years?_

 _ **RM:** Damn, it's like Sophie's Choice :'(_

 _ **RL:** I shall lend my shoulder for you to cry on, milady... You settled in for the night?_

 _ **RM:** Yeah. Third floor, east wing, second door on the left. Knock twice so I know it's you._

* * *

He follows her instructions, being careful not to draw any unwanted attention to himself. It's quite a feat, getting to her room without being seen, finding all the blind spots on the security cameras he has to pass on the way and dodging the lenses, but he manages, knocks twice on her door like she asked, and then as it slowly creaks open, he finally sets eyes on her, and everything is right in the world again.

He walks into her room hurriedly and hugs her before she can utter a word, using his foot to kick the door closed behind him as he buries his nose in her neck and breathes her in, loving the way she seems to just melt in his arms. He kisses her hair, under her ear, squeezes her tighter as she laughs softly.

"I'm so proud of you," he tells her, that dumb smile never leaving his lips as he stares and stares at her, taking in her tired eyes and satisfied grin.

"I'm a little proud of me, too," she says cheekily, and then she giggles when he ducks and picks her up, walking towards the bed and depositing her on it, crawling over her form, his lips finding hers.

"I missed you today," he says against her mouth.

"I missed _you_ ," she replies, her hand cradling his cheek. He turns his head to land a kiss on her palm, then swoops back down to her lips eagerly, her hands finding purchase under his white cotton T-shirt and easily divesting him of it as he continues to kiss and kiss all the skin he can find. She's in her black silk camisole and shorts, her hair disheveled, face void of makeup, tired but happy, and he adores her like this. It's perhaps his favorite version of her, when she's stripped down from the armor she puts on in the shape of power suits and red lips and only the vulnerable, beautiful, incredible woman he knows and loves remains.

His elbows dig into the mattress on either side of her head as he combs the backs of his fingers through her hair, humming into the chaste kiss she gives him after a few moments of silence.

They settle on the bed then, her silk-clad back to his bare chest and his arm draped over her middle, his shirt forgotten somewhere on the floor of the room. Her breath deepens after a while, and he thinks she's fallen asleep, starts to contemplate that maybe he should head back to his room before anyone finds him here, but then she speaks, his full attention drifting to her immediately.

"I'm scared," she says at last, her voice a mere whisper in the quiet of the night.

"That's never stopped you before," he whispers back against her ear, kisses the lobe for good measure. Regina turns to face him, moves to lay half on top of him and rests her chin on her intertwined fingers over his chest as she replies.

"It's different this time. I've been chosen as the leader of the free world, Robin, an entire country depends on me. Three hundred and nineteen _million people_ depend on me. What if I'm not good enough? What if I fail?"

Robin doesn't respond right away, but rather kisses her softly, cupping her cheek in his hand and running his thumb over her bottom lip when they part.

"Do you remember the first time we kissed?" he asks, and she frowns at him in confusion.

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Humor me. Do you remember?"

"Yes, of course I do."

"You were working late at the office, dutiful governor that you were," he says, smiling when she scrunches up her nose at him.

"You stopped by," she continues, "you'd been working late, too, that night, and I was rattled, I asked you why anyone would trust me to represent them when I couldn't even tell what day it was anymore."

"You were so tired, so frustrated," he tells her with a chuckle, running a finger down the slope of her nose, "something about the budget reports not matching what you'd expected, some charity money gone missing, and I told you to take a deep breath, that you were wonderful at your job and you could handle it."

"And I laughed and told you you needed to stop thinking so highly of me," she says, still smiling, "I still stand by that, you know."

"Hmm, and I still stand by what I said right after that. Do you remember what it was?"

"You said that I was strong, and brave, and human, and that _that_ alone was enough to make me the right choice… and then you kissed me, and then babbled some sort of apology for it," she reminds him with a fond smile.

"Something you now know was for your benefit, because I was mortified that I'd offend you. I never really regretted it. I'd never done something so impulsive and stupid in my life, but I'm glad I did it."

"I'm glad you did it, too," she admits, her cheeks turning a little pink.

"You're the right choice, Regina, the people believe that, now you need to believe, too. You can do this."

"How do you know?"

"I just do," he shrugs. "I have every confidence that you'll achieve great things, my love, you just have to embrace this, like you have everything else life has thrown at you."

"That easy, huh?" she asks, still a little doubtful, but he can see that the storm in her eyes has ceased, that she seems to have found enough reassurance in his words to stop her nerves from taking over.

"Congratulations," he says after he nods in answer to her question, kissing her forehead and trembling pleasantly when she shifts to lie more comfortably in his arms and murmurs a _thank you_ with her face buried in his neck.

She falls asleep in his embrace not ten minutes later, and Robin just watches her, ghosts his fingers over her skin, smiles when she shivers, responding to his touch even when she's deep in slumber, and then he lets his eyes fall closed and her breathing lull him.

He wakes about two hours later, and thank god for that, because they didn't set an alarm, and he really should be going back to his room so as not to raise any suspicions. Quietly, he leaves the comfort of her bed and her warmth, drops a final kiss to her temple, and sneaks out, his arms aching to hold her again before he's even out the door.

* * *

They head home the next morning, all in great spirits, ready to embark on this adventure. Regina is welcomed with fanfare and supporters at every turn, wishing her luck and success in her run, and Robin is glad to see her revel in it, loves the smile she can't seem to tramp down no matter how much she tries. Roland is enjoying the attention too, overly excited at the police escort and Secret Service agents that are accompanying them from the airport to the governor's mansion in Augusta, where Regina officially resides (little do they know her valuables are actually at Robin's, along with most of her pajamas, her robe and casual clothes, all tucked in the small shelf he set up for her inside his closet).

Roland and Ashley are in a car together while Robin rides with Regina and David on the one just in front, and it's torture. He's sitting next to David, right across from her, and she's wearing a tight pencil skirt that slides against her skin as she keeps crossing and uncrossing her legs. She knows exactly what that does to him, smiles devilishly when he squirms a little in his seat and David asks him if he's okay.

"Fine," he grunts in reply, and David nods and looks out the window again, completely oblivious to Regina's antics, much to Robin's relief, because now he feels her eyes on him, on his crotch to be precise, and when he looks at her he finds her licking her lips, smirking, and Robin can feel his body heat up under her gaze. Evil minx.

They're pulled in different directions the second they arrive, but he's used to that sort of thing whenever they return from a trip, knows exactly when and where he'll see her once the notoriety of her arrival has died down, so once he's sure everything's safe as can be and no unauthorized changes have been made to the perimeter, he disappears to one of the mansion bathrooms instead of following her, splashes his face with cold water and waits for his arousal to simmer down to something more manageable. Ashley and his son have gone straight home, and he's agreed to meet them there early so that Ashley can head to her flat to start arranging things for her move, so he makes quick work of the tasks he has left to do, makes sure Regina has plenty of escorts flanking her wherever she goes, and then heads home just as the sun begins to sink in the horizon.

* * *

Roland makes a fuss about his bath, but it serves as a good distraction for Robin, and then they cook dinner together while he waits for his small brick of a cell phone to ring.

He loves cooking with Roland, enjoys it more than almost any other activity they do together. His son is creative, and loves to cook by colors, mixing and matching and playing around with ingredients to make a dish that looks as colorful as a bag of those peanut butter M&Ms he loves to munch on. What amuses Robin the most is that Roland doesn't seem to quite care enough about the taste of the dish, so long as it looks wild, but that's where he comes in, and together they find a good balance, create things together, things they later enjoy with Regina...

Juggling work and a child has never been easy for Robin, and even with Ashley's invaluable help, there were times where he felt overwhelmed. Regina had changed that, had allowed him to have a flexible job schedule so that he could be with Roland as often as possible in the first few months of his life. She'd taken an interest in his son the second he showed up at her office with a bundle of blankets and placed him in her arms, and Robin still remembers the tender smile that had graced her features as she'd looked at her husband and moved to show him the sleeping three month old baby under the rolled up covers.

Daniel had been incredible as well. Some of Robin's most treasured memories are of his afternoons off spent at the veterinary clinic his friend worked at (when he felt well enough to do so, anyway), both of them watching his wobbly-legged baby boy crawl around and interact with puppies and kittens, giggling and screaming with delight when they licked his cheeks. He owes his relationship with his son to Regina and Daniel, and he is grateful to them both.

He hears the insufferably sharp tone just as he's draining the pasta they've decided to make for tonight (Roland's helped with the sauce, adding corn, chopped red bell peppers and mushrooms to the creamy concoction because "It's just white! It needs more stuff, Daddy!"), and he smiles, knowing she's here. It's been nagging him, eating at his heart, that she'll be incredibly busy once she takes office, and he needs time with her, before her life as president takes over and he can't see her as often, so he's excited for this reprieve before her duties start, excited to have a normal night at home, with Roland and Regina watching a Disney movie in the living room while he finishes making dinner and then losing himself in her once they've eaten and put his boy to bed.

She's hiding behind the bushes near the back door when he opens it to let her in, and she scrambles inside faster and more awkwardly than he's ever seen her do so, making him laugh.

"Oh shut up," she grouches, "it took me forever to get out of the mansion without anyone seeing me. Why did you add so many new guards?!"

"You'll be the President of the United States in less than two months, my love, your safety comes first."

"Do you always have to be so diligent?!" she's in a terrible mood, he can tell, but all he can do is smile at her, he loves it when she's grouchy, the way her brow furrows in annoyance when he messes with her, loves how even in her anger, she smiles back when he snakes his arms around her and kisses her cheek, how she beams at Roland when he comes bounding in to greet her a few minutes later, when they've parted and Robin is back at the stove, minding their supper.

"Regina!" the boy screams as he barrels himself against her legs.

"Hey, little guy," she laughs, picking him up and kissing the tip of his nose after he kisses hers, a gesture that's become their very own greeting over the years and makes Robin's heart swell every time he gets to witness it.

"Ashley and Daddy and I are going to live in the big white house with you!" he tells her excitedly.

"I know! Isn't it wonderful? I won't have to sneak in to see you anymore, we can spend more time together, you and I," she sounds ecstatic at the thought of having Roland closer, and Robin can tell that her excitement is genuine (not that he's surprised, really, because she adores his son as if he were her own), and the idea of all three of them living under the same roof, albeit in very particular circumstances, makes Robin happy, has him craving the moment where they can finally be a family.

"But Daddy said you'll be busy, because you're the queen now," his boy says, making Regina laugh.

"I'm not a queen, sweetheart, I'll be the president, and presidents are busier than governors, yes, but they still need time to play," she says that last word with a naughty glint in her eye as she stares at Robin over Roland's shoulder, but then the boy commands her attention again, and the moment is broken.

Roland doesn't know they're together, only knows Regina is a very busy woman and has a lot of people trailing after her with things to do, which is why she has to hide and sneak into their house at night sometimes, to escape them so she can play with him, because they're best friends and, in Roland's own words, _best friends play together all the time, Regina!_

Robin feels terrible about not being truthful with his son, but he knows it's necessary, knows that a child's innocence cannot be trusted with so big a secret, and he wouldn't want to put his boy in a position where he has to help keep his father's relationship hidden at the tender age of four.

* * *

"I'm gonna miss this," Regina says later that night, after she's crawled naked into the bed, stretched on her back alongside him and he's spent a good ten minutes letting his hand roam her body as he kisses her, his fingers drifting down to tease her, rubbing lazily at her clit, making her hum in appreciation.

"I know," he responds, never ceasing his attentions, sucking gently at her nipples for a moment, basking in the way her breaths get a little shallower, "So will I. But our new living arrangements do offer some perks."

"Like?" she breathes the question, her body squirming a little on the bed as he continues to lick at the hard, pink peaks of her breasts and lets one finger venture inside her.

"Well," he starts, letting go of her left nipple with a wet pop, "it'll be easier to sneak about to see each other, for one thing, since we'll live in the same house."

"True," she says, taking advantage of the pause in his actions to roll over his body and straddle him, knees sinking into the mattress as they encase his thighs, her mouth trailing a line of kisses down his chest, hands lacing fingers with his on either side of his head as he continues to speak.

"And president King's Secret Service chief informed me tha— mmm…" he trails off on a moan when her lips find his again, her tongue swirling over his, his cock standing at attention when she rolls her hips against it over the duvet that covers him from the waist down, and _god_ , she's fucking amazing at this.

"Keep talking," she teases, teeth grazing over his earlobe, her tongue leaving a wet path from there and down the line of his jaw, nipping at his chin when she reaches it, the action making him squeeze her hands where they grasp his. She's in a playful mood tonight, it seems, and boy is he glad to have forgone clothes when he jumped into bed earlier.

"Difficult to talk when you're doing th— fuck!" she robs him of coherent speech again by trapping both his hands in her left one above his head, freeing her right so it can sneak down between them and help his cock spring free from under the covers, running the tip of it along her entrance teasingly.

"Try," she encourages, the mischievous smirk on her face telling him she's enjoying the hell out of torturing him like this.

"Where was I?" he croaks when she dips her head back down to pepper kisses on his throat and chest.

"King's Secret Service chief informed you…?" she prompts against his skin, biting at his nipple a little too hard and licking it when he hisses in response.

"Ah, yes," Robin has a difficult time retaining enough focus to finish his sentence, his hands liberating themselves from the flimsy prison of her fingers to grasp her thighs and slam her harder over his cock, making Regina moan loudly. Two can play at this game. "He informed me that as the new head of the Secret Service," he continues, his voice shaking as she sits up a little straighter and keeps bucking her hips deliciously over his, "I'll be privy to a video feed from your chambers. No one— _god_ , that feels good— no one else can access it but me."

"How's that a perk?" she gasps, her hips aligning with his as she slowly starts to lower herself on his cock, and _fuck_ that is beautiful. _She_ is beautiful, with her wet heat enveloping him inch by inch, her mouth dropping open as he fills her.

"I get to spy on you," he jokes breathlessly as she begins to move at a snail's pace, adjusting to having him inside with so little build-up, his eyes closing for a moment as he surrenders himself to the feeling.

"Stalker," she jokes even as she adds a bit of a roll to her hips when she moves again.

"It's not stalking, it– mmmh… it's being diligent," she feels so good that once again he breaks off mid-sentence, gasping when her nails scratch a little against his lower stomach. "This is for your safety," he utters at last, smirking a bit as he speaks, and she smirks back, amused at his lousy attempt to sound professional (not that such a thing is possible when he's fucking the new elect president of the United States in his bed).

"Is it, now?" she asks naughtily, carrying on their conversation while her hands move from where they'd been situated on his stomach for purchase, reaching up to play with her breasts, and suddenly he's jealous. He wants to do that, wants to grab those lovely, soft swells of hers as she moves above him. He adjusts his position and does just that, one hand leaving her thigh to reach her breast and give it a gentle squeeze.

"Of course," he answers huskily, "I must– _god_ , you feel amazing," he's breathless, his words coming out between pants as his hips rise to meet her when she sinks down on him again, a little harder this time, "make sure everything around you is secure…" he leaves off on another moan when she bites her lip and stares at him, smirk still in place as she waits for him to finish his sentence, "if that means I must watch you sit at a desk in your suite loo— mmh! looking all enticing in those suits of yours all day, that's a cross I'm willing to bear."

He rolls a nipple between his fingers and then lets that same hand drop down to where they're joined, thumb rubbing over her clit in quick, firm circles, a complete contrast to the lazy pace at which she's riding him.

"We'll see about that," she murmurs against his ear when her upper body bends down towards his, her hands fisting in the sheets on either side of him, mouth hovering over his own, her tongue licking teasingly at his upper lip as she picks up speed. Not fast, not yet, but it's just right, has him hitting that spot inside her that makes her walls flutter around him, makes her have to bite her lip to keep from moaning too loudly. It's a subtle change, but he's spent enough time memorizing her body, the way it reacts to him, and so he sees it, notices how her breathing is a bit more erratic now, her kisses just a tad more desperate, and he grins, smug over the fact that he can make this goddess of a woman come undone like this.

He flips them over in one impressive display of coordination and strength, lands himself snug between her thighs and stays there for a moment, enjoying the closeness before he sits back up, hooking her knees over the crooks of his elbows and opening her legs further as he sinks into her again, groaning when the new position allows him to get deeper, to make more moans tumble out of her as she breathes that she's okay now, that he should go harder, her arms falling limp at her sides as she lets him lead.

"Are you sure?" he asks, because as much as he wants to fuck her hard and make her whimper under him, they've had very little foreplay, so he'll not let that desire take over if it means it'll hurt her.

"Mhmm," she confirms with a hurried nod, one hand rising, fingertips running down his stomach with a feather-light touch, "I'm good, I promise. Please, Robin."

The way she closes her eyes and licks her lips after she speaks, the way her chest rises and falls rapidly in anticipation, it all has him growing harder inside her, and then he's moving, fast and deep into her, the bed squeaking under them.

"Fuck, yes! Touch yourself, my love," he grunts in encouragement when one of her hands drifts down to rub at her clit as he pistons in and out of her, and her strangled cries of ecstasy at the combined sensations permeate the atmosphere beautifully, have him thinking (not for the first time) that he'll never get enough of her.

She comes with his name on her lips and her eyes closed, body arching up from the bed as the orgasm takes her, her skin sweaty and gorgeous, the sight making him go faster, until he propels himself over the edge not two minutes after, pumping and spilling into her, letting her legs fall softly against the bed when he collapses on his back next to her.

When he finally catches his breath, he turns to face her, and they say nothing for a few minutes, ghosting hands over each other with lazy smiles on their faces. Robin loves these moments, loves the serenity and the complete fulfillment he feels when they're like this, spent and sated in each other's arms. He kisses her chastely on the lips, and then relaxes back on the bed as she cocoons herself into him, her heavy exhales against his neck calming his rapidly beating heart.

"Shower?" Robin proposes, knowing she'll be uncomfortable if they don't clean up soon.

"In a minute," Regina answers, face pulling away just enough to look at him, "let's just stay here for a bit."

"As milady wishes," he says, earning himself an amused smirk from her before she settles her head back on his shoulder, her nose skimming his throat.

That minute turns into hours when they end up taking an accidental nap, and he's woken by the shift of her body in the bed when she rises, naked and glorious as she walks to the bathroom. He follows like a snake does its charmer, his hands finding her under the warm spray when he enters the shower just behind her and sets about washing her hair with the lavender scented shampoo he keeps for her there, lathering her body with soap and then rinsing everything away, his hands exploring her as he does, cleaning off the bits of him that still cling to her thigh.

They'd decided to stop using condoms about five months into their relationship, after Regina had requested it, and he'd been all too happy to comply. It was adorable, how formal she'd acted about it, had sat him down for coffee in his living room while Roland was away with Ashely and explained that, since they were both clean and committed to each other and each other alone, it seemed like a hassle to keep using them, just one more way they could get caught ("what if someone sees either of us buying them at the pharmacy? How would we explain that? What if the press gets a picture?! They'll know I'm with someone and they'll ask questions, or if it's you they catch, they'll start speculating...").

Robin had shut up her ramblings with a kiss and agreed with her proposal, but he'd added a small inquiry, and managed to ruin the otherwise amusing moment in the process. He'd asked her if she'd gone on birth control, and if she hadn't, then what would she prefer they do to prevent an unwanted pregnancy without having to go back to the condoms, assuring her he would support whatever decision she made on that regard. That's when Regina had evasively told him he needn't worry about that, and after a little prodding, she'd tearfully confessed that she couldn't have children. Robin had cradled her in his arms, apologized for making her sad with his ridiculous questions, and told her that he didn't care, that he already had a child, and that all he wanted was to be with her in whatever way she'd have him.

None of that has changed, and he quietly reminisces about the many emotional conversations they've had about it as he turns her and massages her body slowly, firmly, kneading her shoulders and neck, until the knots that have formed there thanks to the stress of the week give out under his touch. She murmurs her thanks as she lets her head fall back against his shoulder, tilting her face to the side so her lips can reach his chin and land a small kiss there before she moves to grab his bottle of shampoo and rakes her nails over his scalp as she works it into a thick, foamy mass over his head, making him groan in satisfaction as she rinses it off and then starts rubbing his body slowly with the soap.

This is the life he loves, what he thanks his lucky stars for every single day. A home cooked meal with his marvelous son and this stunning woman, getting to tuck his boy in and read him stories, being able to touch and smell and taste every inch of Regina when they're finally alone… that's it, that's home, and as much as he loves her, as much as he wants her to soar as high as she can go, Robin can't help but worry that everything he holds dear will be taken by this new job she's been chosen for.

"You okay?" she asks from behind him, noticing his worry. The water has gone lukewarm now, suds washed away while he's been distractedly contemplating just how much his life will change now that Regina will be president.

"Yeah," he affirms as she moves to stand in front of him, "just thinking."

"Well, you're thinking awfully hard," she says with a pout. "Come on, babe, talk to me."

It's ridiculous that they're going to have this conversation again, naked and in the shower, no less, but he can't hide from Regina. Robin lets his eyes fall from hers, looking down at their joint hands instead, drawing strength from her touch before he speaks.

"I just worry sometimes, is all."

"About?"

"You," he says, obviously.

"It's going to be fine. You told me so yourself."

"It's not your capabilities as president I'm worried about, Regina. It's your safety. Sidney—"

"Is a disgusting and resentful little jerk," she says, her eyes blazing. And she's right, Sidney Glass is scum, but Sidney Glass is also diligent. He knows Regina like the back of his hand, had been in charge of her PR and managed her public appearances and campaigns for years, practically formed her public persona and helped her build her career in office, so when he'd sought her out as more than an employer and friend, when he'd tried to get her to sleep with him simply because he believed he deserved it and Regina had fired him in response, he'd been livid.

"Yes, he's a tosser, but he's also very well connected, and very, very angry. He said he'd—" he tries, but he's interrupted yet again by her adamant tone.

"I know what he said, I was there. That's why we got a restraining order against him, remember? I'm not worried about the things he said he would do."

"I am. A restraining order is no obstacle for that lunatic."

"Robin, even if he did try something, I'll be the most well-guarded human being in the world," she tells him with an incredulous look.

"You'll also be the most targeted human being in the world, susceptible to threats not just from scorned former employees like him, but from terrorist organizations, social extremists, dangerous criminals from all over, and you'll be busy and caught up in so many different things, and I don't want you to feel like I don't want you to do this. I do, I really do, you've worked so hard for it. I'm just…"

"Scared of the change?" she finishes for him, her sharp tone melting into something softer as she graces him with a small smile, and Robin nods pathetically, his forehead colliding with hers softly.

"I love you, it's only logical that I'd be worried about you," he whispers against her lips, "and the fact that things will be hectic for both of us doesn't make it any easier. I'm going to miss spending time alone with you," he says as he cups her cheek in his hand and rubs his thumb over the apple of it.

"No," she tells him vehemently, reaching a hand behind her to shut off the water, leaving them absconded between the shower walls in complete silence.

"No?" he asks with a confused frown.

"We're not going to let this get between us. It's a job, Robin, nothing more."

"A big job."

"Doesn't matter. The traveling, the work, the ridiculous amount of public engagements and the endless stream of things to do? None of that matters more than us, we'll find a way around all of it."

She's right, he knows she is, and it hadn't been his intention to make her believe he'd been doubting this, doubting them, but even so, she sounds so convinced as she tries to reassure him, so hell-bent on not letting this situation get to them, that he can't help but grin as he lets go of her cheek and wraps both arms around her again, entranced for a moment by the droplets of water rolling down her chest.

"I know we will," he agrees. "Don't mind me, I'm just being a melancholic sod for no reason," he says as he squeezes her tighter to him and nuzzles her neck.

"Thanks for the promotion," he adds then, trying to lighten the mood, because he's gone and made her feel guilty for achieving this marvelous goal, and he can't allow that. Thankfully, his terrible attempt at humor works, and she chuckles against him, kisses his shoulder, and then reaches for her towel with a smile.

* * *

 ** _Penny for your thoughts?_**


	3. Chapter 3

Before he knows it, they're ringing in a new year, one that brings with it tons of snow and freezing winds. Robin spends his last night at his house with Regina in his bed, comfy and warm and silently crying herself to sleep despite his many attempts to assuage her fears.

They both know now that they'll make it through this, that they'll find a way to keep their relationship as alive and wonderful as it's always been, but the situation wears on her, because while Robin has had time to get used to the idea of not setting foot in this house in the next four years, to Regina the notion that she's actually leaving their little cocoon behind is only just dawning, despite having been the one to reassure him not long ago that it would be alright, and she'd shown up earlier today with a tear-streaked face and an adorable pout, wanting comfort.

She hadn't needed to say anything, Robin had understood instantly, had wrapped her in his arms and led her upstairs, where he'd made slow, sweet, tender love to every inch of her body, had kissed and licked and caressed every freckle, every birth mark, every scar, every feature, and he'd told her over and over again how much he loved her, had reiterated that he was in this for the long haul, and that she needn't ever fear that he would leave her side.

She's much calmer now, even while there are still a few salty drops leaking from her dark, lovely eyes, but she tells him she's just being silly, that she can't seem to stop the tears now, and then burrows closer into him, moving her head to the side to flash him a small, lopsided grin.

"Nothing's going to change the way I feel about you, Regina. You're it for me," he tells her, landing a kiss on her temple before he settles, his arms tightening around her as they both drift off to sleep.

* * *

In the blink of an eye they're back in Washington, President King's Secret Service escorting them from the airport to the White House, where they are welcomed by the entire staff and yet more agents, all of whom greet Regina with the utmost respect when she walks inside smiling at them, introducing herself as _Regina_ , as opposed to _President-elect Mills_ (like her Chief of Staff, Ursula, had instructed her to do on the way here), something Robin finds endearing and very much like her.

The inauguration is incredibly formal, stiff and fancy like the crowning of kings and queens in older times, with an air of significance that hits him right in the gut, his very soul soaring with pride as the woman he loves takes the mantle of President with a firm, unequivocal "I do solemnly swear".

It's mayhem after that, long hours of Robin overseeing Regina's every move and following her around from meeting to meeting, never uttering a word but admiring her the entire time, his eyes finding hers on more than one occasion, eliciting that rosy tint on her cheeks he likes so much.

He heads back to his quarters well after midnight, taking advantage of the fact that Ashley is still awake to sneak into her and Roland's room and land a kiss on his sleeping son's head, smiling at the way he scrunches up his nose unconsciously before his breathing deepens again. Robin then walks to the threshold that connects to his room, bids Ashley good night, and locks the door behind him, collapsing on his bed almost immediately.

An irksome beeping startles him just as he starts to doze off, and he takes his old phone out of his pocket, Regina's message making him grin.

 _RM: Don't think for a second that I'm letting you sleep away from me tonight. President's bedroom. Now._

Robin makes good use of the knowledge he'd gained during that post-election night tour John gave him of the residence, sneaks down the hall from his room and pushes a large painting of some long-dead patriot or other, made noticeable as a passageway only by the small, red dot marked in the lower right hand corner of the portrait's frame. The tunnel behind it is narrow, and there's no heating here, which means he's shuddering in the bitter Washington winter as he walks through, but he doesn't care, makes his way hurriedly through it, and not even five minutes later he's pushing against the door on the other side of the passage which, upon inspection as he steps out, turns out not to be a door at all, but rather a giant vanity, complete with a large three-piece mirror, undoubtedly used to cover the seam in the wall that marks the secret corridor.

The room itself is all lush carpets and dark mahogany furniture, with gold accents and flashy rose-patterned upholstery. Hideously ostentatious, if you ask him, but then he sees her, and he forgets all about the ugly décor.

She's still in the designer black suit and white button-up blouse she'd worn for the ceremony, though her makeup and heels have been removed and her hair is - _finally_ \- loosened from the tight bun she'd pinned it into in order to "look more serious" as she was sworn in. Robin cannot resist the urge to touch the silky tresses, threading his fingers into them as soon as he reaches her, his smile so big it feels like it'll split his face in two.

"Congratulations, Regina," he tells her with sincere awe and admiration in his tone, but then she frowns and shakes her head at him, her eyes dark and dangerous as they look into his.

"That's _Madam President_ to you," she corrects with a naughty little grin, one that gets bigger when he catches on to her playful mood.

"Ah, yes, apologies, Madam President," he deliberately makes her title a raspy moan at the end of his sentence, smirking when her eyes grow darker and she invades his space, hooking her fingers under the hem of his navy blue T-shirt and dragging it up, removing it before she pulls him with her to the large canopy bed that sits in the center of the room, the heavy red curtains shaking a little when she practically slams his body into the mattress, leaving him there as she stands by the side of the bed and takes off her blazer.

"God, you're stunning," he groans when she slowly begins to unbutton her shirt and licks her lips, her eyes never leaving his, her hips swaying to whatever sultry melody she's playing in her head. He loves how bold she is in the bedroom, adores how her inhibitions and the carefully constructed mask of a coldhearted, stern politician crumbles mightily under his heated gaze.

She winks when the buttons are all finally undone, her shirt falling off one shoulder as she turns and looks at him over it, then drops the garment altogether.

"Like what you see, Agent Locksley?" she asks seductively as the lovely, soft skin of her back is exposed to him, with only three strips of elastic black fabric marring the view.

"I love what I see," he answers, unable to hold back the sentiment, and something flickers in her eyes when she catches the way his tone betrays the meaning of the word, but then whatever hesitation or guilt he saw in her is gone, and she's turning back to face him on the bed, her tits pushed up deliciously by her bra, his cock stirring at the sight.

Her trousers go next, nimble fingers lazily pushing them down her legs until they are left in a crumpled heap on the floor, and she sways her hips again as she advances on him, crawling over the bed in nothing but sinful black lace and deliciously tousled hair, the ends of which tickle against his skin when she makes her way up his torso and then down with kiss after kiss, sneaking in a bite or two just to tease him.

There are compliments on the tip of his tongue, breathy utterances of how gorgeous she is, how amazing she feels, but all that leaves his mouth is a whoosh of air when her nose skims the seam of his slacks, his cock stiffening further at the brief contact. Regina then shifts to kneel between his parted thighs, licking her lips as she looks at him and runs a hand along his length over the fabric. Back and forth, a wicked smile breaking out as her gaze rakes over him.

"I love that I can do this to you," she tells him, her voice surprisingly tender despite the very devious actions of her hand. "Makes me feel sexy."

"You are sexy, my love," he tells her, but then she looks at him with that evil smirk and tuts as she shakes her head, moving up his body until their faces are so close he could taste her lips if he just—

"Lusting after the president, are we? Not sure that's wise considering your current occupation, Agent Locksley," she says as she pulls back slightly, keeping that tantalizing mouth just out of his reach.

"Then fire me, send me away," he throws back, making her chuckle as she continues to run her hand up and down his length, adding a little more pressure each time.

"Never," she breathes just before she crashes their lips together, her tongue playing delicious tricks against his, hot and wet and fucking incredible.

He's hard now, almost painfully so, and she sees it when they part, notices how his pants are now a bit too snug, and proceeds to unbutton them, kneeling back on the bed between his thighs and dragging the zipper down carefully. Her hand frees his cock from the confines of his boxers and pumps him lazily once, twice, a third time before she finishes pulling down his clothes, until his pants are a strewn mess of fabric on the floor of her room and he's left bare before her.

He licks his lips just as she licks hers, and she's not looking at his face now, but rather down at his cock as it hardens further thanks to her touch, and he knows exactly what she's planning before she does it.

Slowly, oh so slowly, Regina bows her head down to where her hand continues stroking, until the tip of her tongue meets the tip of him, and he can do nothing but watch and revel as she licks and licks, swirling her tongue around him and letting her hand drift down to massage his balls as she drives him absolutely bonkers.

He loves it when she sucks him off, loves the warm, velvety feel of her mouth around him when she hollows out her cheeks and bobs her head up and down his length. She knows it, knows that's what he's waiting for, and that is exactly why she's teasing him right now, only planting tiny kisses on his tip and giving him good, long licks until he's a panting mess beneath her.

"Please, Regina," he begs in a shallow breath, and she smiles that lovely wicked grin that tells him just how much she likes it when he pleads with her like this.

He doesn't have to plead long, however, because not ten seconds after he rasps out another _please_ she's gently pulling back his foreskin and wrapping those plump pink lips around his tip.

His loud "fuck!" would wake the entire west wing of the White House if he hadn't thought of slamming a cushion against his mouth just before he shouted it, because he cannot, for the life of him, hold back while she's doing this, cannot find it in him to keep quiet while she slides her tongue along his shaft and swirls it when she reaches the tip, sucking at it again before she starts to finally take him fully into her mouth, and there it is, that hot, slippery feeling that has him banging a hand against the sheets, fisting into them as he pants and asks for more… and that's when she stops.

He removes the cushion his other hand had been holding against his face and stares at her with an expression he's sure is comical for her, and it must be, because she laughs lightly, then winks at him and commands that he lose the small pillow.

"I want you to look at me while I do this," she tells him in that low, hoarse voice of hers that makes little pangs of pleasure shoot all through his body.

"I need… I don't…" he huffs out a breath to get his thoughts in order, because despite the fact that he's lost her touch and her mouth, he's still in a Regina-induced haze.

"I can't keep quiet, someone will hear," he finally says, explaining the necessity of the cushion.

"It's the middle of the night, we're separated from the hall by the bedroom door, the sitting room and the dressing room, I think we're okay," she says with a grin, and she's right, of course she's right, no one will hear, but what if—

He has no time to consider anything else, because in that split second that his mind drifts to security measures and calculating distances between this room and the nearest agent, her mouth swoops back down and takes him in without warning, his tip hitting the back of her throat, and "shit!"

She grunts around him in acknowledgement of his reaction, her lips curving as much as they can with his cock between them, and then her eyes are meeting his and she's sucking again, up and down, and up, and back down again slowly, torturously, and he cannot hold on much longer, he needs her.

"Come here," he whispers, and she releases him gently, his tip popping out of her mouth as she gives him one last suckling kiss and a swirl of her tongue just under his foreskin, and then she's climbing up his body, straddling him in seconds and looking down at his face with a smile.

Robin raises a hand and threads his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck, using his grip to bring her mouth down to his, his teeth grazing her lower lip when his other hand finds her lace-covered breasts and squeezes. First the left, then the right, then back, fingers finding a taut peak over the lace and giving it a gentle roll before he sits up, Regina sliding a bit down his body in the process, and then his face is buried in the silky smooth skin between her tits, her arms wrapped around his head, hands lost in his hair as his mouth sucks kisses over the soft swells peeking out as he desperately tries to remove the garment blocking his access to her nipples.

"Here, let me," Regina says as she brings her hands to his face to pull him away, elbows crooking as she moves her arms back to undo the clasp. She lets one strap slide down and off, and he watches the movement with hungry eyes. Her hand finishes the job, removing the other strap from her shoulder and tugging until her bra lays forgotten in the lower corner of the bed.

He doesn't think, doesn't draw a single coherent musing as he flips them over, pushing her onto the mattress and hovering above her for a moment, just so that he's able to take in the stunning image of her, debauched and sweaty as she writhes under him. He swoops down then, his tongue finally able to lick circles over one nipple and then the other, and Regina is suddenly moaning, arching her body into his and pulling at his hair as she pants a heated _more_ along with a cry of his name, and Robin can only comply.

His lips trail a wet path down her stomach, tongue dipping into her belly button and making her squirm. His hands keep sliding down the bed on either side of her, carrying him slowly to where he knows she's aching for him. Sure enough, the second his tongue reaches her inner thigh, she twitches, legs opening and colliding with his arms where they're bent against the mattress to keep his weight from crushing her. He's glad the bed is so huge, because he can easily scoot down without leaving it, can dedicate himself to making Regina scream with laps of his tongue while comfortably stretched out between her legs, without the pain of his knees digging into the floor becoming a hindrance.

He does so now, taking his time, moving to spread her thighs open further with his hands as he dives right in, sucking hard at her clit and basking in the animalistic mewl that erupts from her, a primal, succulent sound that only spurs him on. He licks and sucks in earnest, dipping his tongue into her entrance and then back to her clit, until all of her is wet and warm, and it's fucking _gorgeous_.

"That feels amazing," she whimpers as he pushes two fingers into her, his mouth still on her clit, sucking and slurping, and "fuck!" she grunts as she nears her peak.

"That's it, my love, let go," he tells her, taking a momentary pause from lapping at her before he gets right back down to it, adding a third finger to his quick, deep raps inside her. He feels the way her muscles clench around his digits, hears her progressively incoherent curses and shouts, and he knows she's close, so he sucks harder at her clit, uses his other hand, the one that had been holding her thigh, to trail up her body and squeeze one breast while her own hand kneads the other, and she's gone in seconds, coming hard against him. Robin prolongs it despite the ache in his arm, continues moving his fingers into her, though slower now, almost lazily, letting her come down from her high in the most pleasant way possible before he takes those fingers out and brings them to his mouth.

She's watching him with hooded eyes, biting her lower lip as she watches him lick the remnants of her orgasm from his hand, and god he loves this, loves how aroused she gets at just the sight of him eating her. His cock is rock hard, aching and ready to bury itself inside her, and it doesn't take her much longer to beckon him to her with a crooked finger and that evil smirk he loves so much.

He climbs back up her body, making a few stops along the way to land kisses on her waist, her stomach, her ribs, a good suck on her left nipple, a lick at her neck, and then his lips are on hers, her tongue instantly tangling with his at a desperate pace, unyielding and hot and absolutely perfect, until he's breathing shallowly again as she brings her hand down from where it'd been threaded in his hair, finds his cock and positions him against her, her legs opening wider to accommodate him, knees bumping against his arms when they bend so she can plant her feet on the mattress.

Robin's had his fair share of blissful moments in his life, but nothing, absolutely nothing compares to the feel of sinking into Regina, of filling her and watching her face contort in the most beautiful expression of pleasure as he starts to move inside her.

" _Mmmh_ , yes!" she groans, and "Harder."

He crashes his hips against her, the strangled _Oh!_ that leaves Regina's mouth serving to build up his own climax as he pounds and pounds into her, until she's outright moaning his name along muffled cries of _Yes!_ And _Fuck! Right there_.

"You're…" he pants, "you're so beautiful," he manages, and she only groans in response, "I love being inside you."

"Robin," she responds in a shallow breath, "you feel so good. I need—"

"Are you close?" he wonders, wanting to drag her down that precipice again, with him this time.

"Yesss," she stutters, "my clit, I need…"

She trails off on a moan, but he understands perfectly, brings a hand down from where it'd been holding his weight off of her and rubs at her sensitive nub, a high-pitched squeal leaving her as the sensations intensify. Suddenly he can't take it anymore, can't resist her, and he's about to come inside her, pumping hard and fast even as he continues to furiously rub at her clit to bring her to orgasm with him. He manages just in time, her strangled cry of pleasure drowning his own as he keeps pumping into her a couple more times, until all that's left of them is a sweaty, tired heap and he collapses half on top of her, the tip of his nose nudging her cheek.

"What time is it?" Regina pants as she tries to catch her breath. Robin stretches his neck up to stare at the small clock on her nightstand and groans when he reads _2:17AM_ out loud.

"I have a 6AM wake-up call," she whines, rolling over and flipping their positions so that it's her who lies half on top of him, her leg thrown over his, arms tucked against his torso and nose buried in his neck.

"Mine's at five," he counters with his lips against her hairline, his fingers drawing random patterns on the naked skin of her back.

"Ungodly," she protests against the crook of his shoulder, cuddling closer into him and breathing deeply.

"Indeed."

* * *

Robin leaves her room a good half hour before his alarm goes off, and the satisfied sound she makes in her sleep when he lands a goodbye kiss to her brow echoes in his mind for the next few hours, adding to the beautiful soundtrack of chirping birds when the sun finally begins to rise and bathe Washington in its light.

He's supposed to report to Tuck at six by the main entrance, and it's just five-to when he sees him walking in, the sunrays coming through the window glinting off his bald head as he smiles at Robin and greets him.

"Is the room okay? Offer still stands, you know. John's moved out already."

"The room's fine, there was no need for him to leave on my account," Robin tries to defend, but Tuck laughs, claps a hand on his shoulder as they begin to walk together.

"Believe me, he was not the least bit upset about it. You'll see when you meet with him later."

"This job really takes a lot out of you, doesn't it?"

"John's been doing this for two full presidential terms, sir, he's very glad to pass on the torch. Believe me."

Robin chuckles at Tuck's exaggerated eyeroll and wonders if he'll ever hear the stories of the things John has seen here. He's very interested to know about the ones of them scrambling to hide King's extramarital lady friends from his wife, at the very least.

"Ah, here we are. Follow me, if you would, Agent Locksley," Tuck says when they've reached the far left corner of the ground floor.

"Tuck, you'd do best to call me Robin, if we're to get along while I'm here," he quips, using Tuck's own words from back in November against him.

"Fair enough," the man says with a laugh, and then stops in front of a set of large double doors that he pushes open slowly.

They're in the kitchen, a large space that looks quite cramped with the amount of people bustling about, urgent cries of things like "pass the pepper, Belle!" and "where's my Hollandaise, Will?!" coming from the tiniest person in the room. A woman, old in age but definitely not in spirit, with wispy curls of soft gray hair under her chef's hat and glasses framing stern blue eyes, stands in the middle of the kitchen, shouting orders at her staff, all of whom run about trying to comply to her every demand, a semblance of organized chaos in the midst of a busy day.

"Who are you and why are you standing in my kitchen doing nothing?" the elderly woman asks, and Robin feels chastised somehow, like he's disappointed his mother by not being helpful, even when there's absolutely nothing he can do to speed up the cooking going on all around him.

"Granny, be nice," Tuck warns with a stern look, but Robin can see out of the corner of his eye that the left side of the man's mouth lifts in a barely suppressed smirk as he addresses the chef. She rolls her eyes in response, then wipes her hands on the white apron tied around her waist, takes off her chef's hat, and walks closer to them, looking straight at Robin while Tuck talks.

"This is Robin Locksley, he'll be in charge of the Secret Service for President Mills. Robin, this is Mrs. Lucas, our head chef."

"What's her favorite food?" she asks, not even bothering to acknowledge the introduction the Chief Usher's just made, her eyes firm on Robin, who stands there, baffled while she awaits her answer.

"Pardon?" he asks, confused.

"Granny, I made you a list of President Mills's favorite dishes, remember? It's in your of-"

"Shut up, Tucker. New guy, answer me, and do it fast, I don't have all day," Granny barks at him.

"Lasagna," Robin replies, feeling like a toddler that's about to be sent to the corner in shame, but then something unexpected happens. The woman smiles.

"Alright, you can stay," she says, her eyes turning kind and warm as she extends a hand for him to shake. Robin smiles, asks her how she knew his answer was the correct one, and she laughs in response.

"That list was dropped on my office desk about a month ago, I've memorized everything our new Chief likes, I just love giving Tucker a hard time," she replies. "Now tell me, any ingredient in particular for that lasagna?"

"Red pepper flakes," Robin tells her with a chuckle as he nods, "gives it a little kick, she likes that."

"Sounds like you know a lot about her," a voice comes from behind them, and they turn to find a lithe, lovely young woman with heavily lined eyes, loose waves of long dark hair bouncing over her shoulders as she clickety-clacks her way over to them in impossibly high heels and a tight-fitted business suit.

"Ah, good morning, Ruby. Robin, this is Ruby, she'll be President Mills's stylist. Ruby, Mr. Locksley here is taking over the Secret Service for President Mills."

"Stylist?" Robin asks, because why would she need a stylist? Regina can dress herself.

"Not that she needs one," Ruby defends, "I mean, have you seen that woman dress?! It's a good thing protocol _requires_ a presidential stylist, or I'd be out of a job. Anyway, hello! How are you?"

"Stop flailing like a schoolgirl and go get your breakfast," Granny snaps at her, "and I swear to all the gods if all you grab is fruit, I'm going to force-feed you an entire chocolate croissant."

Ruby rolls her eyes, but does as she's told, walking further into the kitchen and taking a blueberry muffin from the small bakery case in the corner, pouring herself some coffee while Tuck prattles on.

"Meal times are set according to each president's preference, depending on their schedules and the schedules of their families. They usually eat in the grand dining room, but since President Mills is by herself, I'm sure sometimes she'll prefer taking her meals in her room. Either way, we'll give you notice of when she's eating and where so that you know where she is at all times."

"Good grief, Tucker, let the poor man have some breakfast before you assault him with protocol bullshit, will you?" the chef snaps at Tuck, turning her eyes to Robin then and gentling her tone before she asks, "tell me, handsome, what are you in the mood for?"

"Oh! I, uh, whatever you have is fine," Robin tells her, still fascinated and confused by this woman. He feels she and Regina would get along swimmingly and hopes he gets the chance to introduce them before Tuck does.

"We have everything, so you better tell me what it is that you want, else I'll serve you cooked liver for breakfast every single day for the next four years." At first, he thinks she might be joking, but then he catches the determined glint in her eye and gulps.

"Um, eggs?"

"Scrambled, sunny or Benedict?"

"Benedict, please," he finishes with a nervous smile, "thank you, Mrs. Lucas."

"Coming right up," she replies cheerfully, and turns around to put his breakfast together.

The eggs are delicious, smothered in the creamy Hollandaise made by one of the sous chefs (Will, Robin recalls from the hurried commands he heard upon entering the kitchen), and he gobbles up every last bit of the yummy concoction while he sits with Tuck and Ruby at the table in a small dining room adjacent to the kitchen, reserved for agents and employees. It feels strange to be the only one eating, but Ruby has finished her muffin, and Tuck says he had breakfast before coming in, though they both insist he pays them no mind and just enjoy Granny's cooking, which he does.

"So tell me, how is she?" Ruby asks excitedly once the conversation drifts back to Regina.

"What do you mean?" Robin frowns in confusion.

"Just… how is she? In general? Is she nice? Is she horrible? Is she as pretty in real life as she is on TV?"

Ah, so that's why she's so jittery. She's a fan. Robin smirks at this new knowledge, throws Ruby a look of curiosity and mockery that has her rolling her eyes and huffing.

"Okay, fine, so I'm a Regina Mills fangirl, sue me."

"I said nothing," Robin intervenes while Tuck laughs.

"She tripped over her own feet last week because of how excited she was. She's been jumping around the entire residence for days awaiting the president's arrival," he discloses, much to Ruby's dismay.

"You said you wouldn't tell anyone!" she chides, punctuating her words with smacks of her hand against Tuck's arm.

"I'm sorry," he says between guffaws, and of course, it only incenses Ruby further.

"Look, she's one of the most accomplished female professionals in the country, and she's just become the first female president of the most influential nation in the world. I think she's amazing," she finally relents, to which Robin can only smile.

"That she is," he agrees easily.

"You've been working for her for a while, haven't you?"

"Since she started as governor," Robin nods in confirmation.

"Has she always been so… I don't know, badass?"

"I believe so," he chuckles in reply.

"And is she… no, I'm sorry, I shouldn't be asking you all these questions."

"Ruby," Robin says as he sets his fork on top of his empty plate and reaches for his coffee, "what do you want to know?"

"Oh, no, don't encourage her, we'll never get out of here if you do," Tuck intervenes.

"Don't you have work to do?" Ruby throws at him.

"So does Robin."

"John can hold the fort for ten more minutes. You, however, don't have a second Chief Usher, so go. Do. Leave us here to talk."

Tuck shakes his head in amusement, turns to Robin and reminds him there are still things they need to get out of the way, paperwork and the like, before he reports for duty.

"I'll be by your office as soon as I'm done here."

"You don't even know where in the residence my office is yet."

"I do, I'll take him, just go!" Ruby insists, making Robin laugh again.

Tuck gives a final huff, turns around and leaves the room.

"Alright, ask away."

"Really?" Ruby asks, her tone taking on a childlike quality, eyes shining with curiosity.

"I can't promise I'll answer everything, there are things I'm not allowed to disclose for legal reasons, and things I'm not willing to disclose because they aren't mine to do so."

"Okay," she nods, taking a deep breath as she gets lost in thought, no doubt trying to figure out what to ask.

"Go ahead," he says when she seems to have settled on her first question.

"Did she really love her husband? It seemed they had a perfect marriage but that might have been just a publicity thing. You know, like someone else we know," she says with a raise of her eyebrow, and Robin smirks at the covert mention of president King's affairs.

"She was very much in love with her husband, as was he with her."

"Did you ever meet him?"

"I did. We became really good friends, actually."

"What was he like?"

"Daniel was the smartest, funniest man I've ever met."

"I felt so bad for her when I saw the news of his death. She seemed devastated."

"She was."

"How did she juggle career and grief? That can't have been pleasant. It must have wrecked her trying to get through it."

"She did it, that's what matters."

"You're not going to give me details on that, are you?"

"It's not my story to tell," he quotes his previous reasoning, to which the raven-haired beauty only nods.

"Is she nice to you?" she asks then, and Robin has a hard time containing his smirk as he remembers the night before, Regina's mouth around his cock as she sucked and licked at him, murmuring naughty things and giving him that wicked smile that has him adjusting himself at the mere memory of it.

"Oh, yes, she's very nice to me," he finally says when he's managed to school his features.

"Is she funny?"

"When she wants to be, yes."

"Does she treat people fairly? Or is she one of those heartless lawyer bitches that don't care for anyone's feelings and just want to get things done?"

"She cares. She's not as cold as tabloids make her out to be, you know?"

"That's good to hear."

"She's witty, with sharp eyes and quite a clever mind. She's one of the best in her field, as you well know, and I believe others tend to feel threatened by that, so they go out of their way to put her down, but she's not at all what the darker side of the press wants you to believe. She's kind, and caring, she's human, and an honest politician."

"I thought there was no such thing."

"So did I, and then she came along," Robin winks at Ruby then, his smile growing as he thinks of Regina.

"What was it like, meeting her for the first time?"

"Oh, it was quite the experience," he replies with a laugh, "my son had been up half the night, so I overslept and arrived to work a few minutes late on my first day. She almost had my hide for it."

"That just makes her sound like a bitch."

"No, no, it wasn't like that," he begins, and then decides to share the story. That one _is_ his to tell, after all.

"I got the job almost as soon as I moved to the States. I had no idea what was in Maine, I just got a map and closed my eyes and where my finger landed, that's where I moved. Lucky for me, the opportunity presented itself pretty quickly. I arrived in Augusta in late March, so she'd only been on the job for three months or so, had already fired every single shady member of the past governor's entourage, and she needed a new security chief, you see." He can't believe it's already been almost five years, and not once has he actually told this story to anyone before. Robin finds that he likes it, likes being able to share at least a little bit about his life with Regina with other people, and so he continues.

"I was hired in early April. My son was barely a few weeks old, and quite the little torturer when it came to bedtime. The night before I had to report for duty for the first time, he wouldn't let up, just cried and cried and cried. I still to this day think he knew I'd leave him with a nanny the next morning so he decided to make me suffer for it." Ruby laughs at that, and Robin smiles.

"I arrived at the governor's mansion at eleven past seven in the morning, and her secretary led me into her office. She had her chair turned away from the door and she was on the phone, so she didn't see me come in, but then once she hung up, she rounded that chair back to the front and pinned me with this really scary stare…"

 _"You're late," she'd said by way of greeting, even as her secretary attempted an introduction. Regina had dismissed the poor girl and gestured for Robin to take a seat across from her, which he did as he began apologizing profusely, but she'd stopped him._

 _"You had the highest recommendations and the most fitting qualifications for this position, and yet you show up in my office eleven minutes late on your first day on the job, what am I supposed to do with that?" she'd asked._

"She told me I was late before she even said hello, and I hated myself for causing such a terrible impression, so I hurried to reassure her it wouldn't happen again, that things had just been hard with my baby boy the night before and I wasn't used to it," Robin says as Ruby listens with rapt attention.

 _"You have a baby?" she'd asked, her face softening slightly._

 _"Yes, ma'am, a boy, almost four weeks old."_

 _"They told me you were a widower, but they didn't say you were a father," she'd told him then, and her tone had sounded almost… apologetic?_

 _"My wife died after giving birth to our son."_

 _"I'm… I'm so sorry for your loss."_

 _"Thank you, ma'am."_

 _"You know, you don't have to take up the job immediately, I've gone two whole weeks without a chief of security and we've done just fine, we can wait one more for you to settle in, or you can work on security strategies from home and email them to us while you take a few days—" she'd tried, but he'd cut her off there._

 _"With all due respect, Governor Mills, I'm here to work. I had a minor fluke, and I apologize for that, but I promise you don't have to worry about this sort of thing happening again, not with me."_

 _"I simply meant you should take time to grieve, Mr. Locksley. It hasn't even been a month."_

 _"I'll grieve when I'm off duty."_

 _"You only get Sundays off."_

 _"Then I'll grieve on Sundays," he'd said conclusively._

 _She'd sighed at his insistence, but had then acquiesced, nodding and welcoming him into her service with a handshake._

"She was very understanding after I explained, even offered me a few days off to get Roland settled, but I insisted on starting right away, and she respected that."

"Is she good to work with, then?" Ruby asks, entranced by his story.

"She's wonderful to work with. She's strong, and she's determined, that makes her scary at times, sure, but not unreasonably so."

"Any tips for us newbies under her service?"

"Just be honest with her. Tell her your real thoughts, not the ones you've been trained to prattle on to your bosses. She'll appreciate it."

"Alright, easy enough. Thank you, Robin," Ruby says then, smiling at him pleasantly.

They've been making idle chit chat for nigh on five minutes when the feisty chef comes bustling in, removing his empty plate and asking him how he liked his breakfast.

"It was delicious, Mrs. Lucas. Thank you."

"Call me Granny. And stop by later, I'm making cherry pie," she winks, and Robin smiles, nods.

"I might drop in with my son for lunch, if that's alright?"

"You've a son?"

"Yes, he's almost five, his name's Roland. He's probably in his room with the nanny."

"I'll have Belle take a breakfast tray up to them later. Bring them both along for lunch," the old woman smiles. "What's his favorite food? I'll have it for him."

"Lasagna," Robin admits sheepishly.

"Like President Mills?"

"Uh, yes, he's… he's very taken with her. Tends to like all the same things she does," Robin says nervously, careful to leave out the part where the reason for such familiarity between his son and the new president is that they spend most nights in each other's company.

"I see," Granny gives him the oddest look for a moment, but it's so brief it's gone before he can properly register the emotion behind it, so he shrugs it off, promises he'll see her later, and lets Ruby lead him off to Tuck's office.


	4. Chapter 4

His first day on the job is _long_.

Waivers, agreements, schedules, and numerous copies of his new contract are all signed and sent to their corresponding destinations an hour after his hearty breakfast and amenable chat with Ruby, and Robin is once more led to the Secret Service headquarters within the White House, John's booming laugh echoing through the space as he welcomes him with a cheery hello and a clap on the back.

Several agents nod at him, others shake his hand, a few of them even crack jokes, and it helps Robin relax, his nerves only making themselves known when he's asked to give a little speech to, in John's words, start the job properly by being embarrassed in front of everyone.

He doesn't see Regina all morning, and John assures him that it's normal, that the Head of the Service usually plans, assesses and coordinates more than perform actual security work, that from now on there will be other people flanking Regina while he's busy, and then, if he so wishes it, he can resume his post at her side when he's finished whatever needs finishing, though that won't be today.

"There's too much to do, and she's busy with press stuff all day anyway."

"Isn't the point of this job watching out for her while she's doing public events?"

"I told you, she has agents with her, and your main responsibilities lie here now. Come on, let's show you to your office and review the protocols."

His new workspace is small, but efficient, with sharp, clean edges and straight cuts in both the furniture and decor, neutral colors and modern accents throughout the room, a stark contrast to the warm, dulcet (if overly decorated) rooms of the residence. There's a thick folder on his desk, brown in color with his name written across the sticker plastered on the top.

"All our security protocols. They're all on our digital database but I figured this would be easier for you to review and modify as you see fit," John explains when he catches Robin staring at the folder. "We'll have one of the secretaries transcribe the changes to the database when you're done. I'm gonna go check on something, but if you have any questions, anyone here will be happy to answer them," he finishes, stepping out of the office and leaving him to it.

Robin grabs the folder, starts to look through the logistics arrangements, nodding in approval and frowning in confusion every now and then. It's not that there are questionable methods or dubious security measures (in fact, they're quite impressive), but he still revises a few, adds some more details to one, changes the scope of the other, his trusty ball point pen scribbling away on top of John's carefully printed notes.

"Excuse me," he calls out to no one in particular, and an agent standing nearby turns to address him.

"Yes, sir?" the man's tone is condescending, somewhat bored, like he has better things to do than obey his commands, and Robin doesn't like it, but he's new here, so he knows there's bound to be some hostility towards him for replacing John, even if the man himself is excited about the chance to get away. He lets the snark slide for now.

"I seem to be missing the emergency evac plans."

"That's a shame," the agent replies. Despite never having met him before, he seems oddly familiar, Robin muses, something about the beady eyes and the scowl on his face reminds him of something… an animal, perhaps, but he can't quite put his finger on which.

"What's your name?" Robin asks.

"Agent Isaac Heller, sir," the man replies, voice rising slightly in defiance. Robin rolls his eyes.

"Right, Agent Heller. I need all the detailed plans for emergency evacuations in every catalogued scenario, find them for me. That's an order."

Heller huffs, but doesn't dare question Robin's authority, turning on his heel and making his way towards the computer in the corner.

"Don't mind him, boss, he's an irritable little weasel," a smiling young woman says as she approaches him, and yes! A weasel, that's what he reminds him of.

"Seems that way," Robin replies, and the corners of her green eyes crinkle as her lips tip up again in amusement. She's tall and slender, with long blonde tresses tied in a sleek, tight ponytail at the back of her head. She's in uniform, meaning she's part of the team, and Robin is glad that at least one of his coworkers seems to share his dry sense of humor.

"Special Agent Emma Swan," she says as she shakes his offered hand, "I'm in charge of VP Nolan's security."

"Robin Locksley," he replies with a nod. "Have you met him yet?"

"Mr. Nolan? Yeah just now, seems nice enough."

"He's alright."

"You've worked for President Mills before. Think she can pull off the gig?"

"I'm sure of it," Robin guarantees.

"Fair enough. Ah, here are those plans," Agent Swan says as Agent Heller comes back with a tablet, the evacuation protocols appearing on the screen.

"Thank you," Robin says, and Agent Swan laughs at the man's surly response of _no problem, sir_.

"Cheer up, Heller. If John's not pissed about leaving, why should you be?" she says as she claps him on the back, making him lose his balance for a moment and stumble. Heller only throws her an offhanded goodbye and leaves the office.

"Odd sort of fellow, isn't he?" Robin muses out loud.

"He's been after John's job for a while now, he's just bitter he didn't get promoted," Agent Swan quips before she offers, "want some help going through those? I have to review them anyway, might as well do it while you're here so we can discuss strategies."

"That would be much appreciated, Agent Swan, thank you."

"Call me Emma," she tells him as she removes her suit jacket and loosens her tie, rolling up her sleeves and dragging a chair to his side of the desk, sitting down next to him so they can go over the information together.

It takes them longer than he expected to get through the whole thing, and by the time they're done, several hours have passed.

He realizes then that he hasn't even had a chance to miss Regina yet, and John's words from earlier echo in his mind, telling him that the Head of the Secret Service has more of an administrative job and doesn't necessarily spend his every waking moment near the person they're supposed to protect, but rather make sure the security detail is as well planned and executed as possible. That's when he realizes this may be the way he'll spend most of his days from now on, away from her, buried in work and not getting a glimpse of her face or making her cheeks flush with color when he gives her a particularly naughty smile, and… no, he can't have that.

"Shit, it's almost noon!" Emma's exclamation startles him from his thoughts, "I gotta go, my kid is waiting for me for a lunch date. See you later, boss."

She leaves before he can even utter a goodbye, and her hurried movements spur him into action. He's got a lunch date with his own kid to get to.

* * *

He reaches his son's room ten minutes later, knocking softly before announcing himself, and a loud squeal is heard from inside as Ashley opens the door and greets him.

"Daddy!" Roland screams, launching himself at him and giggling when Robin picks him up and spins him around, settling him in his arms against his chest, their faces level as he beams at his beautiful boy.

"How was your morning?"

"Awesome! Ashley and I went to the gardens!"

"Did you?! And what was in the gardens?"

"Houses!"

"Houses?"

"Yes! Ashley says they're green but she's lying."

Robin chuckles, then looks at Ashley, who shrugs.

"You try explaining to a four year old what a greenhouse is," she taunts.

"They're not green!" Roland insists, slapping his palm against his face in exasperation.

"And what did you see in these houses?"

"Flowers! So many of them! Did you know you could have flowers in winter, Daddy?!"

"I did not! There must be some sorcery in these houses, then, huh?"

The wide-eyed stare Roland gives him then, that swift moment where comprehension dawns on his face as the idea sinks in, warms Robin all over. It's one of the things he loves most about being a father, that look Roland gets when a new mystery is explained to him, especially when that explanation comes in the form of something mystical that only the young and innocent would believe.

"Do you really think it's magic, Daddy?" he asks in an awed whisper.

"Of course," Robin assures, and Roland once again gasps.

"Like fairies?"

"Could be. Fairies like nature, don't they? Maybe they make the flowers grow in those houses. Was it warm in there?"

"Yeah, like summer, and there was a pond, too."

"Aye, well, legend says fairies love warm places, and they like to play in ponds."

Roland is awestruck, completely and utterly enthralled by his father's tale, and Robin feels his heart swell with love for him.

"Can we catch one, Daddy?"

"Ah, I don't think we can. See, fairies are fast! And they're shy, they run and hide when they hear someone nearby."

He looks crestfallen at that new revelation, but the disappointment is gone the second Ashley muses that maybe they could help take care of the flowers so that the fairies learn to like him.

"Will they let me see them if they like me?!" He asks, ever hopeful.

"I don't know, but we can try, can't we?" Ashley offers, and Roland claps his hands excitedly.

"Well then," Robin says at last, "sounds like you have a mission, young man. We'll ask Tuck to talk to the gardeners, they can show you how to take care of the plants so you can help, alright? For now, though, what do you say we go down to the kitchens and get something to eat? I've met the cook, and she said if we go down to visit her, she might have something delicious just for us."

His son nods, but seems a little apprehensive about meeting new people, so Robin grins conspiratorially as he stage-whispers, "would you like to stop by and see Regina on the way?"

Roland lights up then, the promise of seeing his best friend igniting his enthusiasm, but then he looks shy again for a moment as he asks, "Can we bring Ashley, too? To the kitchen? I don't want to leave her here all alone."

"Hmm… I don't know… Do you think she's hungry?"

"She is! She is! Right, Ashley?!" he asks, turning to look at the young woman, who laughs and nods.

"Famished," she agrees, and Robin nods, tells his son to escort the lady while he leads the way, and Roland dutifully walks towards his nanny, takes her hand and follows his father out the door.

They stop outside the oval office, and Ashley hangs back while Robin knocks.

"Madam President? It's Agent Locksley," he announces, and a faint _Come in_ is heard from within. He opens the door slowly, signaling for Roland to wait outside for a moment.

Regina isn't alone, an older man with a pointy nose and shoulder-length hair streaked in gray sits across from her, his sharp suit denoting his importance (or maybe it just denotes the depth of his pockets, Robin can't quite decide).

"Is everything alright, Agent Locksley?" she asks.

"Quite well, ma'am," Robin plays along, "I was just wondering if I could take up a minute of your time, but seeing as you're busy, I can come back later."

"No!" she says, a little too quickly, and then she steels herself when the man sitting on the other side of her desk widens his eyes slightly in reaction. "I mean, we're pretty much done here, please stay. In fact, allow me to introduce you. This is Mr. Gold, our current White House Press Secretary. Mr. Gold, this is Robin Locksley, new Head of the Secret Service."

"Ah, yes, I heard someone new was taking John's place. Pleased to meet you," he says in a tone that sounds anything but. Robin nods, still standing awkwardly by the door, waiting for the man to leave.

"Mr. Gold, I'll keep your suggestions in mind, and I will gladly meet with you in a couple of hours to go over key points in tomorrow's interviews."

"Thank you, ma'am," he replies as he stands from the comfy seat, "I shall see you in a bit."

He walks to the door, and Robin can't see Roland's reaction, but he hears his yammering stop instantly when Gold steps out of the office, and so he follows, just to make sure everything is fine. He finds the older man giving his son the most curious of looks, but he says nothing, only meets Robin's eyes for the second it takes him to nod his head, and disappears down the hall.

Robin steps back inside the oval office once the coast is clear, and Regina has now moved to the front of her desk, leaning back against it with her arms crossed and a tender smile on her face.

"Hi," she greets, and the almost shy way in which she does it has him tingling all over as he smiles back.

"You kept King's Press Secretary?" he asks curiously.

"He's good at his job. Insufferable in terms of personality but no questionable deeds from what I could find. He'll do just fine for now."

"I suppose," he says with a hint of doubt, one that she picks up right away.

"You sound displeased."

"I'm not, it's just… We've seen the kind of person King is behind closed doors, and while I do agree that Gold managed to keep his reputation from completely plummeting, I don't really know if he'd be the best person to handle your public relations."

"That job was meant for Sidney before I fired him, would you rather I get him?" she asks with a raise of her eyebrow, and it's a low blow, because Sidney had tried to hurt her, and she has to know Robin would never wish him near her again, but she's ticked, annoyed because he's questioning decisions he has no business questioning.

"No! Of course not," he hurries to explain, "I'm sorry. This is your area of expertise, not mine, I'm just a little worried Gold might do something that could harm your credibility."

Her face softens then, brown eyes warming up as she appraises him before she reassures him it'll be alright.

"Look, you're right, Gold's a jerk, but he knows the only reason he's here is because I haven't found someone to fill Sidney's spot yet. He also knows my reputation, it's his _job_ to know it. I'm sure he's realized he has to be on his best behavior now that I'm here, lest he be replaced."

"I guess you're right," he replies, accepting the idea, though his apprehension still lingers.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" she asks him then, changing the subject.

"Nothing, really," he tells her, "it's just… someone's here to see you."

"Oh," she says, somewhat disappointed, but then Robin leans back out the door and motions Roland in, and her face changes the instant she sees his boy make his way in while Ashley waits outside. Regina goes to hug him, but confusion stops her in her tracks when Roland bows in front of her.

"Majesty," he says in this ridiculously serious tone, and Robin can't help but snort.

"Honey, what are you doing?" Regina asks, chuckling at his son's antics.

"Ashley said you got inograted last night."

"Inaugurated, yes."

"That means you're queen now."

"I'm president. It's different."

"The queen is in charge of Daddy's other country."

"Yes."

"And you're in charge of this one."

"Right, but Roland, honey, we talked about this, I'm not-"

"So that means you're queen here!" He announces excitedly, clapping his hands at his own wit. Regina sighs, her lips tipping up in a resigned grin as she shakes her head and sinks down in front of him.

"Do queens get hugs from their best friends?" she asks, and Roland doesn't even reply, merely crashes himself into her, his little arms squeezing her around the neck while hers wrap around his middle and hold him close. They pull back only to press a kiss on the tip of each other's noses, as is their custom, and then Roland informs her that they're headed to lunch.

"I'm having lunch with my stylist," she says as she looks up at Robin, "apparently she thought it would be better than a stiff meeting in the break room?"

"I met her earlier, she's quite the interesting young woman. I think you'll like her."

"Sounds like you two hit it off," she says with a hint of suspicion. "Is she attractive?" she asks then, and he can't tell if she's teasing him or if she's really worried.

"Roland, why don't you go find Ashley so we can head to the kitchen? She's been out there all alone for a while now. We can see Regina again later, if she's not busy," he tells his son, and Roland instantly nods, hugs Regina goodbye, and runs out of the office, yelling out his nanny's name.

"I'd kiss you, but red lipstick isn't really something I can pull off," he mutters with a smirk, and Regina only scowls.

"You haven't answered my question."

"Yes, she's attractive," he admits, because he's never once lied to her, "but you have nothing to worry about. You know that."

Regina sighs then, nods as she looks down at her hands, fingers wringing together for a moment before she throws him a nervous smile, a lock of hair falling over her face, and Robin itches to push it back, to feel the soft texture of it, but he reigns in the need in case someone comes in, only clears his throat and looks straight into her eyes.

"You're cute when you're jealous," he says under his breath, and she's instantly scrunching up her nose at him defiantly, claiming that _No, this isn't about that_.

"I love you, Regina," is all he says in response, there are no cameras here, but still he keeps his voice low and his back turned to the door, so that no one can hear or see him say the words to her, just in case.

She smiles at him, her eyes shining the way they do whenever he voices his feelings for her, and then he winks, gives her a lopsided smirk, and leaves the office, leading his son and Ashley down the hall.

* * *

It's not even been ten minutes since they arrived in the kitchens and already Granny and Roland are absolutely smitten with each other. She's won his heart by having delicious lasagna waiting for him, and Roland's won her over with nothing but a shy smile and a sweet _thank you_.

Ashley's struck up a conversation with one of the servers as they eat, a young girl with thick brown locks and blue eyes (Belle, he thinks is her name) while he plates some food for his son and sits down to eat with him at the near-empty kitchen table. There's not as much rush right now as there was this morning, and most of the servers and kitchen helpers are on their break, so the place is mostly quiet, the only sound disrupting the atmosphere that of the pan Granny lands loudly against the burner, dumping some fresh, pitted cherries in it for the pie she'd told Robin about earlier.

Roland is eager to help, and when they're done with their lunch, Ashley brings him over to the other side of the counter with Belle, helping him measure sugar and cornstarch while Granny turns up the heat on the cherries and covers them for a few minutes.

Once there's enough juice with the fruit in the saucepan, Granny lets Roland add the ingredients he's just measured, and Ashley and Belle grab some coffee by the counter while Robin sits next to them and watches his son have the time of his life making pie.

"This one's gonna be a chef, mark my words," Granny tells him as she rolls out the dough while Roland carefully sprinkles flour over it.

"I think so, too, he loves to cook with me back home."

"Regina says I'm the best chef in the whole wide world!" Roland intervenes, and Robin's eyes widen for a moment, but Granny says nothing to him, merely replies to his son's enthusiastic remark.

"Does she?! Have you cooked for her many times, then?"

"Uh huh, almost every day! She likes lasagna too, like me! We eat it all the time," he replies, much to Robin's mounting anxiety. It is Ashley who saves him.

"She's known Roland since he was a tiny, tiny baby, she's his best friend," she explains, "and sometimes he makes food for her… with Robin's help, of course," she clarifies to Granny, who lets out an _ah!_ and watches as the boy spoons the cherry filling into the dough she's just set in the dish.

They're just shutting the oven door after placing the pie inside it when Ruby waltzes in, beaming as she pours herself a cup of coffee.

"Met her, then?" Robin asks, because he knows that smile, has sported a similar one himself on many occasions.

"She's fabulous!" Ruby gushes, sitting next to Robin as she excitedly tells him about her lunch with Regina.

"She was a little stiff at first, for some reason, but then we started talking about ideas for what she can wear for that dinner tonight and the charity ball next week and for her interviews and she really liked my choices! I think what won her over was my telling her the hat she'd picked was horrible, though."

"Hat?" Robin asks with a frown. In the years he's known Regina, she's never once worn a hat.

"Yeah, she said she wanted a new hat and she showed me a picture of the one she liked. It was hideous so I did what you said, I was honest, and I told her that the only way she was going to wear that thing was over my dead body. She seemed to loosen up after that."

Ah, of course, a test, Robin thinks, a way to size Ruby up and see if she was really someone Regina could count on. He's got to hand it to his love, she's clever.

"I'm glad it went well, then," he tells her as she sips her coffee.

"And who is this cutie?!" She asks when her eyes focus on Roland, who blushes and turns to his father expectantly.

"This is my son. Roland, this is Ruby."

"I like your name," he says with a shy smile, "it's pretty."

"Thank you. President Mills told me you're best friends, is that true?"

"Yes!" he perks up instantly, "Regina's my best friend!"

"Well, presidential best friend, would you like to help me pick a color for her to wear at dinner tonight? She couldn't choose so she said I should ask you," she's serious, Robin can tell by the way she's smiling fondly down at his son.

"Green! It's my favorite! Like the forest!"

"Alright, green it is."

Once that's settled, Roland helps Granny clean up while Robin and Ruby talk a little more, often joining Ashley and Belle in their conversation, all four of them marveling at the mouthwatering smell of the pie as it bakes. When a loud _ding!_ goes off, they all stare at the oven with excitement, and Roland is actually the one who has to discipline them, telling them that the pie still has to cool before they can eat it.

* * *

After stuffing himself with dessert, it's time he returns to his duties, so he leaves his son with Ashley and Granny and walks briskly back to the office, almost knocking into Agent Heller as he opens the door. The man scowls, but says nothing, and Robin walks in with a roll of his eyes. Emma arrives just behind him, and together they sit at the large desk in the center and discuss strategies for next month's share of public events.

He doesn't text Regina all day, nor does he receive word from her, and by the time he's finished with his tasks, it's almost bedtime for Roland, so Robin goes back to his son's room, finds him there and asks him if he'd like to watch a movie, giving Ashley a little time to herself.

They settle on Robin's gigantic bed, turning on the telly and browsing through their choices. Roland pipes up the second he sees the cover image for Lilo & Stitch on the TV menu, and so they curl up together and watch.

The boy's eyes grow heavy as he fights to stay up and finish the movie, and during that struggle, Robin's old brick of a phone goes off in his pocket.

 _ **RM:** Sorry for being so MIA today. Lots of things to do._

 _ **RL:** It's quite alright, my darling. You heading to bed?_

 _ **RM:** Yeah. Dead tired._

 _ **RL:** Would you like a cuddle?_

 _ **RM:** Always ;)_

Robin turns to Roland then, finds him half asleep as he stares at the screen absently.

"Roland, Regina's just finished working, do you want to go see her? Maybe give her a goodnight cuddle?"

His boy gives him a nod, and so Robin gets out of the bed, lifts him into his arms and makes his way to the secret passage. When they reach Regina's room, he's greeted by quite the sight, and for a moment he's thanking every deity there is that the draftiness of the hidden corridor had made Roland bury his face in his father's jacket.

Regina is naked. Absolutely bare and enticing and gorgeous, sprawled on the bed waiting for him. The only problem is, when he'd offered her a cuddle, he'd actually meant from Roland, an innocent friendship hug, with none of the very adult implications that come with having her naked before him.

She jumps when she sees he's brought his son with him, scurries about the room gathering undergarments and her pajamas while Robin merely stands there, fighting the urge to burst out laughing.

"I thought you were coming alone," she says through gritted teeth.

"I see that," he says, doing nothing to hide his amused tone.

"You're horrible," she snaps, annoyed. Roland's still unaware of their conversation, sleepily twirling a lock of his own hair with his fingers as his eyes roll back slightly and start to close, only to blink open again, fall closed once more, and start the entire sequence all over.

"Had I known that would be my welcome, I _would_ have come alone."

"Stop being so ridiculously smug," she berates, her tone a little louder, startling Roland just enough that he wakes up, looking around for a moment before he understands his new surroundings. He sees Regina then, brings a little fist up to rub sleep out of his eyes as he greets her with a tiny smile.

"Hi, Regina," he says lazily as he goes from his father's arms and into hers, burying his face in her neck as he mumbles, "Daddy said you wanted a cuddle."

"I do," she replies, "I want to cuddle with my best friend before I go to sleep because I'm scared of being all alone in this big bedroom. Think you can stay for a little while?"

Roland nods against her chest, holds on to her as she walks them back to the bed and settles him on it, climbing in right after and opening her arms so that he can nestle himself against her. Roland instantly gravitates towards Regina, his arms tucking themselves in against her chest while Robin watches them, the left corner of his mouth tipping up in a smile when Regina's eyes catch his. She smiles back, then puckers her lips in a silent request for a kiss, one that he's all too happy to grant.

He makes sure Roland is fully asleep where he's cradled against her, and then he leans down, meets her mouth softly once, twice, then moves to plant a third kiss on her brow, shifting and lingering as he mutters a low "sleep well, my love" against her hairline.

When she's asleep, he heads back to his quarters through the passage, reaches his son's room and finds Ashley there, curled up in the window seat with a book.

"Roland's spending the night with Regina," he informs her, "no need to wait up."

The young woman nods, giving Robin that knowing smile that unnerves him, but neither of them mentions anything else, merely wish each other a good night and then Robin leaves her, heads back to his room and collapses on the bed after changing into his soft cotton pajamas.

His phone chirps all of a sudden, the loud, pitchy noise startling him. He'd left Regina asleep, he wasn't expecting more messages from her.

 _ **RM:** 7AM wakeup call. Pick him up then?_

Robin smiles, then shoots her a quick, flirty reply.

 _ **RL:** Sure. Now go to sleep or everyone will know you had a visitor in the night ;)_

 _ **RM:** Tease._

He's about to retort with some comment about how she was the one waiting for him in the nude, but it's like she senses that he's about to get smart with her, because she sends another text to shut him down before he can type his own.

 _ **RM:** Goodnight, Robin._

* * *

When he sneaks back into her room the next morning, he finds her awake in her bed, elbow bent against the mattress, head propped up on her hand as she watches Roland sleep, his chest rising and falling slowly while she runs her free hand through his wayward curls.

"Good morning," he greets in a low voice, alerting her to his presence. "Have a good sleep?"

Regina nods in reply, not saying anything, only untangling her hand from Roland's hair and extending that arm to him. Robin goes happily, laces their fingers together.

"I owe her, you know," she says then, her voice barely above a whisper, and Robin frowns.

"Marian," she clarifies when she sees his confusion, squeezing his hand in hers as she looks back down at Roland. "I didn't know her, but I owe her. Big time."

Her eyes are misty as she speaks, and Robin has no idea what's brought this on, but he senses it's best not to ask, only smiles at her and bends down to kiss her, lingering on her lips for a few precious seconds, his tongue running swiftly along the seam of them for a moment before he finally lets go, one hand burying itself in her tousled tresses and scratching at her scalp.

She _mmm_ s pleasantly, and "That feels good," she mutters, relaxing further into his touch.

"How soon do you have to leave?" he asks as he sits next to her on the bed, his fingers still working in firm, slow circles against the back of her head.

"Soon," she answers, "I'm meeting Ruby in an hour."

"She said your meeting went great yesterday. Something about a hat?" he asks with a smirk and a raise of his eyebrow, and Regina rolls her eyes, grinning at him.

"She's alright."

"I think so, too," he agrees.

"Trading me in for a younger model, Agent Locksley?"

Robin looks at her, shifting closer and closer until his lips are uttering his reply against hers.

"I wouldn't dream of it."


	5. Chapter 5

**_Our show is back! YAY!_**

* * *

It's been two months since Regina was inaugurated, and it's been rough. More so in the past few days, as the fourth anniversary of Daniel's death had rolled around and Regina couldn't fly to Maine to lay flowers on his grave - her schedule too full for her to take time off for such a trip.

She'd been particularly cranky on the day in question, spilling nothing but poisonous remarks at anyone who gave her condolences or dared ask if she was okay, had only let go of the pent up emotions later that night, when she'd collapsed in Robin's arms and tearfully confessed that all she'd wanted to do was leave her usual bouquet of white roses for her husband, to tell him about everything she'd accomplished in the year that had passed (something Robin knew was a tradition for her, a way to heal). He'd poured them each a shot of whiskey in his resolve, had had them both toast Daniel before downing the burning liquid and holding her as she'd cried against his chest. He'd reiterated over and over again that Daniel would be just as proud of her as he is. That he'd always wanted her to be happy and achieve her goals, assured her that he would be nothing but glad to know that she has done just that… And before the sun had started to rise the next morning, Robin had sneaked out to the greenhouses and clipped a white rose for her, had left it next to her on her bed so it would be the first thing she saw when she woke up.

Aside from that little stint of melancholia, and despite the many other things that have plagued them in the time she's been in office, Robin is proud to say they've adapted fairly well, despite their more demanding jobs not letting them spend as much time together as they'd like.

This week, though, this week is torture, because Robin is about to watch Regina go on her first international trip as President... without him.

Apparently, he has things to take care of here, something about fortifying the security protocols now that yet another terrorist organization has started hostile talks against them, and working with Emma to watch over David, since he'll be in charge while Regina is gone.

He hates it, he hates every second that brings them closer to her departure and the six days he'll spend without her. Mostly because he hasn't seen her as much as he'd like (even while they live in the same house and spend a lot of time in the same quarters during their work day, the night of Daniel's remembrance had been the first he'd spent with her in over two weeks, and that had been days ago). Normally, when they're finally freed of their duties and allowed a respite, she has a headache brewing and is too tired to eat or talk, too tired to do anything but sleep, really, and he's loathe to disturb her rest by climbing into bed with her after his day is over much later than hers, so he hangs back, spends his nights with his son and Ashley, reading stories and watching movies, missing Regina's presence.

The trip is in four days. She's headed to Mexico to meet with the President there, at a summit in Acapulco. Not terribly far, and not terribly unsafe considering she'll be watched from every angle by the best trained men and women in the force, Robin's made sure of that, has even asked John to go with her, since he can't go himself, begged him to look after her and make sure the strategies they've developed hold up even if something unexpected happens. John had given him a strange look, curious as to his devotion to her, and Robin had shut down the question before he even uttered it.

"King might have been a jackass, but President Mills is a good person, and an incredible leader. This country needs her. I won't risk her safety."

John had been unable to argue with that, had admitted that Robin is right, that she's doing a great job, and then had promised him he will guard her with his life, that he has nothing to worry about.

Robin worries regardless.

It's not that he doesn't trust John, it's that he doesn't trust anyone but himself to watch over her, and he knows that's wrong, knows he shouldn't let his feelings cloud his judgment and get in the way of work things (and this _is_ work, Robin reminds himself), but there's an ache in his chest at the thought of not seeing her for almost a week that has him overthinking everything.

Not today, though, not right now, when she has taken her first afternoon off since her inauguration just to spend his son's fifth birthday with him in the gardens. She'd half-jokingly offered to turn March 25th into National Roland Day, but the boy had refused, asked for nothing but a picnic with his best friend (and a new bike, of course, because he wants his daddy to teach him how to ride one), and so that is exactly what he's getting.

Everyone in the residence has now clued in to Regina's affection for Roland, and most people find it endearing, no one has suspected that there's more, that the reason behind the familiarity between Regina and the boy is due to her very adult, much more scandalous relationship with his father.

They're giggling as they walk through the soft, mushy grass, the first blooms of spring dotting the borders of the vast South Lawn with color, adding a sweet scent to their surroundings as the mid-afternoon sun bathes them in its warm rays, keeping away the slight chill that still lingers in the air. Roland swings their held hands back and forth between them, Regina paying rapt attention to whatever it is the boy's babbling about, and Robin can't hide the smile that breaks out on his face as he watches them.

Agent Heller is also there, holding the left side of the perimeter, hands clasped together in front of him as his beady eyes watch Roland and Regina's every move, then scan the nearby area, and move back to his protected targets. Two months in and Robin still cannot stand the man, but he won't deny that he is efficient.

When he next chances a look, Roland is running, hiding behind bushes while Regina trots after him, her heels digging into the grass, and she almost trips when she tries to free herself and her entire shoe leaves her foot, but then she just takes off the other and runs to Roland, laughing all the while.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Roland pleads between giggles when she catches him, "help me, Daddy!"

"Oh no, birthday boy, you're on your own," he laughs, desperate to join them but unable to do so with Heller (and most likely at least a half dozen other agents posted at the windows overlooking the lawn) watching them. Regina throws him a smile, though, beaming and carefree and truly _happy_ for what seems the first time in weeks, and his heart beats faster and faster with the strength of his love for her.

Granny comes out into the gardens then, a blue-and-white checkered tablecloth slung over her arm and a basket in her hand. She goes to extend the cloth on the floor, but Regina takes it from her, thanking her politely and setting up the picnic herself.

There's all sorts of goodies in the basket, he'd been there when his son helped Belle pack it, different kinds of sandwiches and cheese and crackers and fruit, all of which Roland proudly announces he helped prepare earlier today.

"You did?! That's wonderful! Do you like cooking with Chef Lucas, then?" Regina asks excitedly, happy to know that her best friend is enjoying himself in their new home.

"Uh huh," he nods, dropping his voice to a whisper loud enough to still carry through the open space as he adds, "she's better than daddy, but don't tell him I said that."

Regina throws a wide-eyed look his way then, amused at his son's secret, and Robin can only shrug. Roland's right, after all, Granny Lucas is a trained chef, her cooking is definitely far better than his. The basket had been her idea, actually, and she'd approached Robin about it, asked him if maybe Roland would enjoy whiling away the morning of his birthday down in the kitchens, helping her make lunch and partaking in putting together a few simple things for his requested afternoon picnic with his best friend. Robin had been all too happy to accept, knowing his son would love to just spend his day playing around with ingredients like he used to do back in Maine.

The chef in question is still standing there, watching him with curious eyes, rectangular spectacles sending a glare his way when the sun hits them as she moves, head drifting back and forth between him and Regina, who has now sat herself down on the cloth and started passing out food to everyone around them (Belle and Ashley have joined the festivities, bringing balloons and party hats with them), oblivious to the older woman's scrutiny.

They eat, they laugh, they play, and every few minutes there are these glances she throws him, these swift little moments of connection between them that he wants to prolong a thousandfold, but he can't, because they're being watched, and never has it been so difficult to keep his hands off her as it is right now, when all he wants is to hold her and his son in his arms and celebrate Roland's birthday the proper way. But that smile, that look of pure bliss on her face as they all sing _Happy Birthday_ to his son and watch him blow the candles on the surprise chocolate cake Granny made for him, is enough to get him through the day.

Granny leaves the garden shortly after cake, heads back to the kitchen to prepare for dinner, but Robin has the distinct feeling that she's picked up on something, and he's afraid of finding out what exactly it is, so he avoids the kitchen the rest of the afternoon, even bypasses the back entrance to the House in favor of the hidden door to the right, the one that takes him through one of the many living rooms, and Roland asks him why they're taking the longer way back to their room, but he doesn't answer, only shrugs and lifts his son into his arms, twirling him around and effectively wiping the inquisitive look from his face.

* * *

The evening before Regina's trip, Roland begs to spend the night with her, clutching at her and almost crying when he realizes he won't see her for nigh on a week.

"Please?" he begs.

"Of course, sweetheart, you can stay with me tonight, if your father says it's okay."

"Are you sure, ma'am?" he asks, keeping the professional facade for the benefit of Mr. Gold, Emma and David, who are with her and Robin inside the oval office when Roland bounds in and makes his request, Ashley running behind him and apologizing over and over again when she realizes it's too late to prevent him from interrupting.

"Of course. I'd be more than happy to have a sleepover with my best friend before I travel," she says as she politely dismisses Ashley, telling her she has nothing to be sorry for. She crouches down in front of Roland when the girl has left and kisses the tip of his nose, tipping her face down slightly so that the boy can return the gesture before he hugs her tightly.

"Alright," Robin acquiesces, "if you're certain."

"I am, Agent Locksley, thank you," she smiles courteously.

They all head out of the office, Roland happily bouncing up and down with his hand clutched in Regina's until she stops and bends down low in front of him, offering him a piggy-back ride that he's all too happy to accept. Regina lets out an _oof_ as the boy jumps on her back and loops his arms around her neck, giggling when she stands and hooks her hands around his legs on either side of her as she moves.

"Agent Locksley, a word, if you please," Gold interrupts as Robin watches them, and he turns begrudgingly back to the man now staring suspiciously at him, pointy nose high in the air to denote his self-designated superiority.

"Do you need something, Mr. Gold?" Robin asks, eyebrow raised in question.

"They're quite the pair, aren't they?" Gold replies, not even bothering to look Robin in the eye, his gaze following the movements of Regina and Roland as she continues walking them down the hall together, his son now yammering about dinner from where he's perched on her back.

"I suppose," Robin answers cautiously.

"Inseparable, those two."

"It's been that way since he was a baby. He lacked for a mother, she lacked for a child. They found each other, there's nothing wrong with that."

"Ah but see, that's where you're mistaken."

"Excuse me?!" Robin berates, because how dare he? How _dare_ he allude that his son's friendship with Regina is a bad thing?

"Ms. Mills is the President of the United States, Agent Locksley, things are expected of her, she can't be seen gallivanting with a five year old that isn't even hers."

"So now my boy is a hindrance?!"

"I never said that."

"You might as well have."

"It is not my goal to ignite your ire, sir, merely to voice my concerns."

"Well, your concerns are stupid."

"Agent Locksley, I realize that you care for your son's happiness, and I commend that." There's something about the way he says it, some repentant quality that makes Robin wonder if Gold has a son of his own, one whose happiness he perhaps didn't focus on when he should have. "But I've been press secretary here for eight years, this isn't my first rodeo. That woman abandoned her every right to privacy the day she became President, and everything can and will be used against her by the press. You know as well as I do that a female president is still a very shaky concept, and there are people out there who will exploit everything they can to bring her down..."

"Including my son," Robin finally says, understanding Gold's predicament but still despising the way he's addressing the situation.

"Yes, including sweet little Roland. Just something to think about," Gold says as he takes his leave, and his words stay with Robin for the rest of the day.

* * *

Later, when Ashley's taken Roland for his bath and Regina's curled up in her bed at Robin's side after hers, he tries to forget his run-in with the Press Secretary, tries to keep his mind on the woman currently lying naked and lovely under the covers, he really does, but the dread Gold's planted in his heart is stubborn, refuses to fade even as Regina's very distracting lips drop soft kisses against his chest.

"What's wrong, babe?" she asks, and it comes as no surprise that she can sense his mood. He's accustomed to this by now, used to the fact that she can read him so easily, but it still thrills him when she figures him out without needing a single clue.

"Nothing, I just..." he quiets, his smile turning into a scowl, and the arm he has around her moves so he can trail his fingers up and down her back, seeking to soothe his own anxiety as much as hers. "Gold is an arse."

She chuckles at his sudden outburst, untucks her head from under his chin and moves back slightly, leaning her weight on her bent elbow against the mattress so she can look at him with curious eyes. "What happened?"

"He um… he basically said your relationship with Roland could be detrimental to your career. That it could harm both of you."

"And you believed him." It's not a question, but Robin shakes his head anyway.

"Not exactly, but he might not be completely wrong, loathe as I am to admit it. The press is waiting for something, _anything_ that will help them hurt you, I don't want them to turn my son into the reason you're incapable of running the country. I don't want them to wander down a path of speculation that will eventually lead to the world finding out about us before you're ready and ruin you in the process."

"Robin," she says, cradling his stubbled cheek in her free hand, her thumb rubbing softly over it, "Gold is an ass."

"Yes, we've established that," he grins, "but he's also been doing this for a very long time, Regina, he may have a point."

"I told you before we moved here, that none of this mattered unless we could handle it together. Roland brought light into my life when there was none, he's my best friend, I don't just say that to him because he's a child and I'm playing along. He really _is_ my best friend."

"I know."

"I've known him since he was three months old, and when I lost Daniel, he… he saved me. He's my world. You both are. But if…" she trails off then, looking down as she takes a deep breath before she continues, "if you feel it's safer for him, if it gives you more peace of mind for him to stay away now that I'm in this, I'll understand."

He knows how much saying that hurts her, knows it because he can feel it in his gut when she speaks, and no, that's not at all what he wants.

"Regina," he says, "you're as much a part of Roland's life as I am. I know how much that means to you, and to him. I'd never, ever desire for that to stop."

"But you said Gold had a point," she intervenes, and he hates the trembling quality to her voice. It reminds him of the aftermath of Daniel's death, when she could scarcely talk, swallowed up by despair and loneliness. It rattles him that she'd be so affected by the mere prospect of being away from his son.

"And he does, so maybe we should be a little less casual about it," he says as he draws her back against him, her head settling over his chest as his arm stretches along her back, his hand splayed over the curve of her rear. "His time spent with you would have to be scheduled officially with Ashley and Tuck, so that there's a record of it and the pertinent staff is properly informed. I'll have to be more careful about who watches over the two of you when you're together, make sure it's people who don't judge the bond you have with each other and won't go blabbing to anyone about it, and I'll be on the lookout for anything the press might be saying, in case they mention Roland by name, or me. _That's_ what I was trying to get at, I didn't mean for you to think that I'd… I would never do that to you."

"It would hurt not seeing him. I'd be devastated, but I'd understand, Robin." She presses closer as she says it, her lips forming the words against his chest when she turns her head into it, her hair falling to cover her face. "He's your son, you need to protect him as you see fit, and if that includes having to keep him away because I may pose a danger to him, then you should do it."

"He doesn't need protecting from you, Regina, he needs protecting from those vultures flying around looking for something to pick on. I can handle them. You know that Roland's safety and yours are my priority always," he says vehemently, tacking on a petulant, "even if I can't be there to provide it," after he huffs against her hairline.

"Still angry about the trip, huh?" she asks knowingly.

"I don't understand why I can't go with you."

"You're not my chief of security anymore, Robin, you're the Head of the entire Secret Service, responsible for the safety of this residence and everyone in it, not just me."

"I know, I know," he says, his free hand traveling automatically to her hair, fingers tangling there and playing with soft locks, "I just don't want anything to happen to you."

"Everything is going to be fine, babe, stop being so paranoid," she says, and there's no edge to her tone, but rather a kind of fond exasperation, an amusement of sorts, and Robin finds himself mildly offended, uses his grip on the back of her head to gently pry her away from him enough to look at her face.

"You're entertained by my concerns?" he asks with a raise of his eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting just a little, because when she smiles at him like she's doing now, he just can't resist the urge to grin back.

"Well, you see, I think this has nothing to do with my safety, and everything to do with the fact that I'll be in sunny Mexico hanging out by the pool while you're stuck here with the chilly beginnings of spring."

"I must admit, knowing you'll be sunbathing in that white bikini of yours that I love while I'm here staring at men in suits all day is quite a dire prospect," he says with a humorous lilt to his voice.

"I knew it," she accuses, and then she laughs, lands a kiss on his chest and shifts closer into his embrace, the warmth of her skin seeping into his.

"Except I probably won't have time to indulge in such trivial pursuits, because I'll be in and out of meetings with the Mexican parliament and President Sanchez the entire time I'm there, save for a few cultural exposure visits to the local community."

He wiggles his eyebrows, about to open his mouth and throw a cheeky comment at her, but she stops him as she adds, "and no, I won't be wearing the bikini during any of that."

He deflates at that, exhaling loudly before he smirks at her.

"You have to admit it would be fun seeing everyone's reactions."

"I have no care for anyone to see me half naked, thank you."

"Are you sure about that?" he asks skeptically, his hand pointedly running over her rear, bare under the flat sheet of the bed.

"Okay, maybe one person," she says with a saucy grin, and then she moans softly when Robin's lips can't bear the distance between them anymore and close it, savoring her for a few long seconds, his hand rubbing up and down her body until she gently pulls away.

"I better get dressed, Ashley should be bringing Roland soon, and you need to not be here when she arrives."

Reluctantly, he leaves the warm, loving cocoon of her, makes his way through the passage and then sneaks back into his room from the hall when the security camera in the corner changes angles (he's used to doing this now, he realizes, fooling the system thanks to its own tiny kinks, so that no one can ever tell he's been using the secret corridor behind the painting with the red spot on the frame to get to Regina's room undetected).

She leaves early the next morning, climbing into Marine One on the South Lawn helipad, chancing a look back at him through the window after she puts the headphones on. Robin watches her, his face fixed in a neutral, serene expression even when his entire body screams at him not to let her go alone. Roland is in his arms, and bless his childish innocence, he doesn't have to hide just how much this pains him, so he cries against Robin's shoulder, asks him in a shaky voice if Regina will come back soon.

"Very soon, my boy," he insists, "Ashley made you a calendar so you can count down the days."

"Can I see it?" he asks with mild interest, rubbing his teary eyes with tiny fists as Robin walks them back into the house. The chopper is out of sight and confirmed to be headed promptly to the airport, where Air Force One awaits, safe and secure, for Regina's very first trip abroad as President.

* * *

It's hell being without her. Absolute torture for both him and Roland, and they spend the next two days missing her like they've never missed anyone before. Ashley tries to make the wait for Regina's return as easy as possible for Roland, and each page of that calendar she made for him (which is basically a gigantic sketchbook with the dates of the passing days printed in cheerful colors at the very top of each blank sheet) is covered in notes and mini cards and drawings he makes for his best friend every day, so that he can give them all to her when she comes back.

Robin, on the other hand, has nothing but work to occupy his time, and so the need to see her, to crush her body to him and just _feel_ her eats at him from the inside, his chest heaving whenever he sees a picture of her online or footage of her trip on TV, smiling and waving at the press and staff during one conference or another in Mexico, her attire crisp and fresh, something Ruby looks quite proud of as she stands in the background, watching her President with a smile.

On the third day without her in the residence, he's grouchy, snapping at his fellow agents, barking orders to his subordinates, asking anyone and everyone why John hasn't sent an update of how the trip is going. Most people leave him be, but not Emma. She strides into his office after a particularly petulant comment from him, her face contorted in annoyance, and tells him she has no idea what the hell is wrong with him, but he needs to get a grip. Robin apologizes, makes up some excuse about how the new pressures of the job seem to be harder to handle than he thought, and she smiles comprehensively, nods her head and tells him to relax.

And she's right, he does need to unwind. In fact, he needs a drink. Or twenty.

That evening, Robin makes his way down to the kitchen and heads straight for the liquor cabinet in the far end, only to be startled out of focus by chef Lucas, who suddenly appears behind him and gives him the scare of his life.

"Holy mother of god!" he exclaims, clutching a hand to his chest, "Don't ever sneak up on me like that again. You almost gave me a heart attack."

"You're a presidential bodyguard and the Head of the Secret Service, son, aren't you supposed to be trained to detect when someone's sneaking up on you? Not very efficient if you can't tell when the cook is in the kitchen," she jokes.

"I let my guard down for one second..." Robin says with an amused shake of his head, finally catching his breath.

"What are you doing?" she asks when she sees the bottle of bourbon he'd been making a grab for when she scared him.

"Just wanted a drink."

"Put that back. I'm not letting you drink my bourbon while you're on duty," she says sternly, and Robin sighs in defeat, depositing the bottle back in the cabinet and turning around to face her.

"I will, however, fix you the best ice cream sundae you'll ever eat. Sugar rush is a good substitute for a buzz, right?"

"Perfect," Robin agrees with a chuckle, moving towards the counter and sitting behind it while Granny gets to work, scooping up chocolate and vanilla ice cream and then adding all kinds of delicious toppings for him.

One bite has him agreeing with her instantly, this really is the best ice cream sundae he's ever had, and he digs in eagerly, savoring the sweet chocolaty taste of the many fixings she's piled up in the bowl.

"Told you," Granny says with a smug smile, grabbing a spoon and stealing some of his ice cream as they both lean over the counter.

"So… is it just sex or is there anything else going on with you and the president?" she asks him when they've almost finished the dessert, and Robin's spoon drops from his grasp, landing on the bowl with a clatter as he chokes on a mouthful of chocolate ice cream.

"Excuse me?!" he asks in outrage when his coughing has subsided some.

"You heard me. You and President Mills, is it just bumping uglies or are you two more serious than that?"

"I don't-" he starts, his instinct kicking in as he tries to deny her assumptions.

"Oh please, don't even try to tell me there's nothing between you, I'm an old wolf, you can't fool me… or Ruby for that matter."

"Ruby?!"

"Oh yeah, she knows."

"There's nothing to know."

"Are you really going to try that bullshit on me?" she asks again, sharp eyes staring him down over her spectacles, and Robin just huffs out an exhale, giving in.

"How did you…?" he trails off the question, not wanting to give voice to her confirmed suspicions.

"Roland's birthday. You smile like a fool when you look at her, you know? And sure, that alone is not enough to catch you, because you could've just as easily be looking at your son, but then I caught her staring back at you with that same stupid smile, and it was easy to figure out."

"And Ruby?"

"You'll have to ask her when she comes back, but she knew before I did. We won't breathe a word of it to anyone, if that's what you're worried about, but you really need to be more careful. Stop smiling at each other like idiots in public, for starters."

Robin gives a humorless laugh at that, but says nothing more, and Granny reiterates her question a third time.

"You still haven't told me if it's just sex..."

He's offended by that, annoyed that she would even think they'd risk so much for a few passion-filled nights, so he sounds a little snappy when he answers, "I'm in love with her."

"In love? How long has this been going on?" she asks, her voice low and interested, not judging, just curious.

"Almost two years."

"And you've managed to keep it a secret all this time?" Granny sounds impressed.

"It wasn't that difficult for the most part. She was never this… notorious. It's a harder now."

"But you love her," she says knowingly.

"With every ounce of my being," he assures her, and god, it feels good to say that out loud to someone, to profess his feelings for Regina outside of his quiet, hidden moments with her.

"Well then, I'm glad," Granny says, surprising him, "who better to look after our president than the person who loves her more than anything else in the world?"

He smiles in thanks, she winks, and that's that.

He fills the next two days with work, escaping a bit earlier than usual so he can spend time with his son, who seems to grow more and more excited the closer they get to Regina's return. He bides his time helping Roland draw, chatting with Granny in the late afternoons (never about Regina, though, the old chef is respectful of their privacy and doesn't even mention the subject, for which Robin is grateful), and eating more ice cream than he has in all his years in this country put together. On one of those afternoons, he brings Roland along, watches him giddily drown his vanilla scoop in syrup and sprinkles and basks in the sound of his laughter, enjoying himself more than he has in a while.

* * *

Her return flight is late, and Robin is already done with work for the day by the time he's told Air Force One is in the air and on its merry way back, so he waits, not realizing how tired he is until he finds a comfortable position on his bed and drifts off. There's still a good few hours to go before she reaches the premises, so he sets his alarm and decides to take a cat nap, just so he's able to welcome her back at the door when she arrives.

That alarm never goes off, and instead he's gently brought back from his dreamless rest by a hand caressing the side of his face, fingers soft against his stubble.

"Hey," Regina's delicious, raspy voice greets him, barely disrupting the quiet of the room as she continues to run her fingers up and down his cheek.

"You're back," he mutters, finally focusing his eyes on her, taking her in. She looks tired. There are bags under her eyes, her face stripped of makeup, and a flash of light blue silk under her loose tresses tells him she's already changed into her pajamas.

"We landed earlier than expected. I got in just about an hour ago," she tells him.

"Ironic considering your flight was late to begin with," he says with a sleepy smile.

"That's what I told the pilot," Regina winks in answer.

"Why wasn't I notified that you were here?"

"Agent Swan said you'd gone to get some rest, I insisted no one wake you. Agent Little was with me the whole time. I was fine, everything was fine."

"How did you get in here without anyone seeing? The hidden passage only leads to the hallway on this end."

She gives him a cheeky smile then, answers his question with, "You're not the only one who knows how to use blind spots for their convenience, Agent Locksley," and it has him smirking as he raises his head from the pillow just enough to kiss her.

She melts into it, returning the soft presses of his lips with slow, wet pecks of her own as he sits up, his back against the pillows now, her hands tugging on the knot of his tie to loosen it.

"I missed you," she says against his mouth.

"Really?" he asks, pulling back slightly so that they're both sitting on his bed, "I didn't miss you one bit."

"You didn't?" she raises an eyebrow in question, and Robin shakes his head with a smug look on his face.

"Nope. Hardly even noticed you were gone."

"Oh. Alright, then I guess I'll just go sleep in my suite all by myself," she replies haughtily as she gets up from his bed, and Robin instantly catches her wrist, pulling her back with enough force to have her fall on his lap, her arms instinctively wrapping around his shoulders as she tries to steady herself.

"Don't you dare leave this room," he warns against her neck, his tongue licking a path up her throat until he reaches her lips and kisses her again, long and slow and deep, his arms tightening around her.

"Ah, so you did miss me," she says with interest.

"Maybe a little," he mutters against the crook of her shoulder, pushing her to get up for a moment and following right after, stripping to his boxers and leaving his clothes on the floor before he's lying back down on the bed and bringing her with him, until they're settled under the covers with her back against his chest, his lips dropping kisses on her shoulder and neck, his nose burying itself in her hair.

"What time's your wakeup call?" she asks sleepily.

"Seven."

"So late? Are you slacking on the job, Agent Locksley?"

"If you must know, your majesty, I'm spending the morning with my son-" he starts, but she interrupts by gently smacking the arm he has over her waist and belly.

"Don't call me that," she admonishes.

"Roland calls you that."

"He's a child. He thinks I'm a queen," she says with amused exasperation.

"You are. You're our queen. Roland's and mine."

"Robin Locksley you are so ridiculously cheesy sometimes."

"You love me for it," he says, not realizing the slip until she tenses in his grasp, but she relaxes in seconds, steering the subject back to Roland.

"Was he sad while I was gone?"

"A bit, but Ashley made him a calendar of your trip, just a big, blank page for each day you've been gone so he could fill it up with things he wanted to tell you and show you. He's covered every page with drawings and gifts for you, he's very excited to show it off," he informs, knowing she's smiling even if he can't see her face from this angle.

"You're spending all day with him tomorrow?"

"Just until noon. I'm getting a few tasks out of the way first thing so I can have breakfast with him, maybe take a walk around the Children's Garden, he loves to climb the trees there."

"I need to see him," she sighs, sounding nostalgic, and Robin smiles as his eyes close.

"I've already arranged for him to have lunch with you tomorrow," he tells her, and Regina takes his hand from her belly, lifts it to her lips to kiss his knuckles and brings it back down.

"Thank you," she whispers.

"Mhmm," Robin acknowledges, burrowing closer to her and taking a deep breath, inhaling her scent and relaxing instantly.

"Goodnight, Robin," she breathes into the night, extending a hand to turn off his bedside lamp, and Robin finally surrenders to the feel of her, the overwhelmingly satisfying sensation of having her back in his arms where she belongs, basking in the intimacy he has missed so much.

"Goodnight, my love."

By the time he wakes, she's gone, but there's a text waiting for him on his old, trusty Nokia, one that makes him grin devilishly as he reads it.

 _ **RM:** Good morning, handsome. Relaxing in the hot tub at around 8pm tonight. Might just wear that white bikini… or nothing at all. Have a good day ;)_


	6. Chapter 6

_**I'd like to take a sec to thank you all so much for the support with this story, I'm so glad to see your notes and reviews telling me how much you're enjoying it and look forward to your thoughts on this new chapter, since it contains one of my favorite scenes I've ever written =)**_

 _ **As always, I don't own them.**_

* * *

It's 8pm on the dot when he stealthily makes his way into her room, shutting the secret door quietly before he makes his way to her bathroom, his footfalls softened by the carpeted floor of the vast closet he has to walk through to reach it.

The jacuzzi area is separate from the shower, and it is large and luxurious, set in lavish navy blue ceramic tiles and trimmed with a red and white flower brocade, clear glass doors with gold handles framing the hexagon-shaped tub and dimmed lights casting a warm glow over the water. A work of art, certainly, but not more so than the woman sitting comfortably inside it, the pressure from the jacuzzi jets creating frothy waves around her, steam rising and adding a foggy quality to the space as he tries to see her properly.

"Are you wearing it?" he asks as he starts to undress in front of her.

"Mm, why don't you get in and find out?" she offers with that wicked smile that makes his cock twitch, and he catches her licking her lips when she sees his hand drift down to stroke himself over his boxers.

Once he's done removing all his clothes, he climbs gingerly into the tub, sitting on the edge and hoisting his legs up and over, wading his way to Regina and taking her hand to make her stand up with him, water dripping over her body, and _fuck, yes_ , she's wearing the white bikini that he loves.

"You spoil me," he tells her with a satisfied grin, raking his gaze over her form. She has plenty of other bathing suits, he doesn't know what it is about this particular one that drives him crazy, but it does, makes lust flare in him like nothing else. It's a tiny, sinful thing, the strapless top tied in a bow at her back and dressing up the delicious swells of her breasts, the bottom exposing the skin of her hips through the metal rings that adorn the sides.

"You've no idea how badly I want you right now," he tells her then.

"Oh, I think I do have an idea," she says as she looks down, and yes, he's already half-hard.

"It's been a long week," he tells her, unashamed as he draws her in closer, his lips finding hers. Her tongue is immediately in his mouth, savoring and twirling around his as his fingers dig into the skin of her waist.

"Someone's eager," he teases, but his voice is gruff, affected as he is by the searing kiss she's just landed on him. Her hand drops to his cock then, stroking him languidly as she dips the tip of her tongue back into his mouth.

"It's been a long week," she throws his own words back at him, adding a naughty smile as her strokes grow bolder, firmer, his moan reverberating against the skin of her neck when he drops his head down to lick and nip at it.

It takes him a moment to detach from her, to pull himself away from the suckling kisses she's peppering over his shoulder, but he does, stepping back to stare at her, kneeling slowly onto the floor, the water lapping at his clavicle, and for a moment he just stares and stares at her while her fingers thread into his hair, his hand slowly inching its way up her left thigh until it reaches the metal ring on her hip and pulls it down, bringing half the bathing suit bottom with him. The other half remains in its place, and Robin looks up for a moment to find Regina watching him, her tongue licking at her lips as she breathes at him to keep going.

His teeth find the right side of her waistband, dragging the synthetic material down, down, until it joins the other side at mid-thigh, just above the water. Robin hooks his fingers into the fabric then, pulls it down her legs the rest of the way and watches as it floats up to the surface and away from them, carried off by the current created by the jets.

She'd been expecting him to remove the top next, he notices, because she frowns in confusion when he doesn't, but Robin remains focused, cups her sex with his hand, one finger teasing her entrance for a few seconds as he sucks a line of kisses along her jaw, landing on her lips and grazing them with his teeth, making her squirm against him.

His hand abandons her then, moving to hold her waist just like the other as he walks her to the edge of the tub, sitting down on the bench so that the water now covers all the way up over his shoulders, Regina landing sideways on his lap, rolling her ass right over his cock and biting her lip with a satisfied grin at the grunt he gives in return.

The arm he has around her tightens, fingers squeezing into her side for a moment before he trails them up, up to the little white bow in the middle of her back, toying with it before he pushes her forward just a bit, enough for him to bend and bite one of the straps, pulling until the knot loosens and falls. Her arms are flush against her sides, trapping the fabric and preventing it from falling from her breasts, but he doesn't care, not right now, not when the lovely skin of her back is exposed to him, his tongue licking the water droplets that still cling to it.

He stops when he feels her pushing back, her arms wrapping around his neck and squeezing as she kisses him urgently, pressing their torsos flush together, losing her patient touch and surrendering to the desperation they both feel to be with each other like this after a week apart. Robin finds it in him to slow them down, though, helps her lean back and recline over his arm so he can kiss his way down her chest and nose away the cups of the bathing suit top, licking at her nipples when the fabric finally falls and floats away.

"Robin," she gasps, her fingers threading themselves in his hair and gripping tightly in silent command for him to keep doing what he's doing. He obeys, sucking eagerly at one nipple and then the other, his free hand venturing down her stomach, loving the way she squirms when his fingers brush her belly button. He continues his descent, until he finds her clit under the water and rubs. The movement is sluggish thanks to the water's density, but she likes it, he can tell in the way her mouth falls open as she begins to rock her hips against him again.

"Come here, my love," he tells her, helping her stand and sitting her on the very edge of the tub, using the shallow bench as a platform in which to kneel before her, hands spreading her thighs apart.

"Oh, god," she moans in anticipation when he blows air over her sex, and he looks up just long enough to flash a smug smirk her way before he bends to his task, tongue lapping long, slow strokes from her entrance to her clit, over and over. It's not enough to make her writhe, not yet, but then he closes his lips around her sensitive nub and sucks hard and without warning, making a breathy, high-pitched squeal leave her lips as she immediately moves a hand to his head and presses there.

"Fuck!" she says, "Keep going."

"With pleasure, Madam President," he murmurs against her hipbone, tongue tasting the sweet beads of water that glide along her skin as he traces a line back to her clit and flicks at it in quick, successive jolts that have her jerking her hips forward, almost slipping off the edge of the tub.

"God, I missed you," she gasps when he sucks at her clit again, tongue swirling over it as he pushes one finger inside her and presses down. It's a move that always surprises her, when he curves his finger downward inside her instead of up towards her G-spot, but she likes it, she's told him in hushed tones how it makes her feel like it's his cock pressing into her, stretching her, and she groans in satisfaction as the digit hooks and unhooks inside her just like that. He licks harder at her clit and stays there, drawing out his finger and joining it with a second when he moves back in, and this time he does curve them upward, getting deeper, searching until he finds the right spot, and her muscles clench at the sensation.

"Oh!" she's close, so close, he can feel it in the way she squeezes around him, and "That's it. Right there, don't stop," she pleads, fingernails scratching gently at his scalp, and he licks and sucks and licks some more, letting out a satisfied _Mmm_ against her and reveling in the way she reacts to the vibrations.

She surrenders, comes hard, the taste of her release coating his tongue when he pulls out his fingers and licks them as she watches him, eyes dark and skin flushed.

She sags a little, plops herself back into the jacuzzi bench next to him and heaves out a pleasured sigh as she comes down from her high, her head lolling sideways and resting on his shoulder when he cards his other hand through the hair at the back of her head, her own fingers finding his rock-hard erection under the water and stroking, teasing with passes of her thumb over his tip.

He lets himself enjoy her touch for a few more seconds, her tongue on his shoulder leaving a wet trail as she moves up his neck, along his jaw and to his earlobe, where she nips at it before she licks back down, lips sucking on his upper one when he turns his head to meet her, and he can't wait any longer.

"Regina, please," he begs against her mouth, and he feels her smile smugly, her hand still playing sinful tricks with its tantalizing strokes up and down his shaft, adding just a hint of pressure when he speaks.

"Please, what? Tell me what you want," she coaxes.

"I want you t- _fuck!_ " he exclaims when she bites into his shoulder, tongue darting out to lick at the spot right after.

"You want me to what?" she asks again, her voice husky and smug, and Robin opens his eyes (he hadn't even realized he'd closed them) to find her looking back at him with an amused smile, pleased at the effect she has on him.

"I want you to - _mmh!_ \- sit on my cock," he huffs out after a particularly satisfying pump of her hand, "I want you to ride me and come again while I'm inside you."

Regina moans at his words, straddling him. Her legs bend against the slippery bench as she situates herself, her hands around his neck when she rises on her knees slowly, tits pressing close to his mouth, and Robin is only too happy to bury his face in them, licking and sucking and nibbling at her nipples, hands rising to grasp and knead, her breathing becoming shallow as her head lolls back in ecstasy, grinding herself down on him, splashing water against his torso.

She's hot and wet and wonderful when he finally enters her, one hand grasping his cock as he plunges his way into her slick folds under the water.

"God, that feels good," she tells him, face hiding in the crook of his neck, tongue laving over his skin. Robin starts to move, thrusting up into her and letting out a loud moan when she grinds down to meet him, slapping their bodies together, sending water flying around them. A drop lands on her chest, right above her left breast, and he moves straight towards it, licking it off and sucking eagerly, spurred on by her satisfied gasps, until there's an angry red welt that he hadn't meant to leave there.

"Sorry," he whispers. He knows she doesn't like marks, is wary about them because they're risky, even when left in places where she can cover them with her clothes, and he's just gone and given her a hickey like some hormone-crazed teenager.

"It's okay," she tells him, smiling tenderly at him and then kissing his lips softly, "just this once."

He's still thrusting slowly, letting the flow of the water dictate his rhythm, but Regina grinds against him again, and it makes him jerk his hips upward a little harder, the sound she makes in response thrilling him to the core.

She's biting into his shoulder, hard, leaving a mark he's sure is a retaliation for the one he's left on her, and he can't bring himself to care, wants to give her all of him, to make her come and scream and writhe while he rams his cock inside her over and over, but he knows she needs more, and from the position they're in he can't exactly reach her clit, seeing as she's pressed against him, her arms around his neck clutching him closer, tits mashed against his chest, her mouth open and exhaling against his, tongue licking at his upper lip every few seconds.

He slows them down further, until he stops, still buried in her snug heat, and he's loathe to pull out of her, but he wants to be able to touch as well as feel, so pull out he does, his hands holding her waist and helping her rise off him.

She gives him a pout that he kisses away, biting on her lower lip and sampling the familiar sweet taste of her with his tongue for a few precious seconds, and then he's grasping at her shoulders gently and bringing her to sit back down and straddle him again, this time with her back against his chest, the side of her head meeting his, cheek to cheek. Her hands are not as adventurous as moments before, the fingers of one trailing over his thigh under the water as they settle, and then she starts moving, rolling her hips slowly over his, making the tip of his cock bump against her entrance with every pass, until he can't breathe properly and is begging her to… well, he's not really begging for anything, can't actually utter a request beyond a husky _please, Regina_ , but she catches his meaning, lets one of her hands drift down to his cock and position it against her as she rises, and then she's sitting and taking him in, inch by hard inch, and he's groaning at the pleasure of being back inside her, water sloshing around them as she moves.

Her hands are clutching the edges of the tub on either side for leverage, leaving his own hands free to roam her body like he wanted. He grabs one of her glorious tits, squeezes and rubs the wet pad of his thumb over it, making her shiver, and his lips are at her shoulder, her neck, her ear, kissing and murmuring naughty, delicious things while she rolls her hips with a little more purpose, the new angle helping him hit that spot inside her more firmly.

"You feel so good," he utters against her back, licking there as the hand not on her breasts drifts down to where they're joined. His chin digs into her shoulder as he peeks over to see her splayed atop him, nipples hard and pert, and it's the sight of his hand down there, the feel of her sliding over his cock in and out of the warm water, that sends him into overdrive.

Suddenly he's slamming her against him, meeting her languid grinds with faster, harder ones of his own, and Regina squeals at the unexpected change in pace, but then meets his speed, rising until he's almost completely out of her and sitting down on him hard, screaming when he hits that spot again, and again, and again, his teeth raking over her shoulder when she falls back against him. The hand he now has on her breast grows wilder, giving her nipples a hard tug that has her shuddering out a breath and a _fuck, Robin, yes!_ that has him grunting his pleasure against the dewy texture of her skin, his back leaning harder against the tub's edge for purchase so he can thrust faster.

The hand he'd left idling at the base of his cock finds her clit in her next grind, toys with it in a way that renders her incapable of sitting up again, so he takes over, rapping his hips against her.

"You've no idea," he babbles, "how much I wanted you these last few days." She moans at his words, a high-pitched, sighing sort of scream leaving her when his fingers go faster over her clit, "I watched you on TV, rubbed off to the thought of fucking you in that blue skirt," he tells her as he bites softly into her earlobe, "right there in front of everyone."

"Quite the... _ah!_... exhibitionist streak you got there," she teases in that breathless voice she knows drives him crazy, and he slams her against him again at that, gasps out a _For you, always_ , and thrums his fingers over her clit more firmly, but the water has turned the action into a workout, and his arm is starting to ache, so he switches hands, bringing his tired limb up and over her torso, hand fondling a breast while he keeps moving, but he's not thrusting now, rather enjoying the roll of her hips over him as he stays buried inside her, her moans as she circles faster, and fuck, it feels so good, he's not going to last much longer.

"So close, Robin," she pants as she keeps moving, "make me come while I ride you like this."

God, he loves it when she talks to him like that, when her inhibitions disappear and she's just wild and riled up and fucking him with abandon. He scoots further down so that his back is fully braced by the walls of the tub, uses them for support as he starts to ram into her even harder and revels in the loud _Mmmh, Robin!_ she gives in response.

She comes seconds later, her walls fluttering around him, wrapping him tighter inside her, and with a few more fast thrusts, he's falling over the edge with her, showering her back with desperate kisses.

They take a few moments to catch their breath, his cock spent and softening inside her.

"I can't feel my legs," she breathes out with a laugh, and Robin huffs out one of his own as he eases her off him, her little groan at the loss of him making him shiver.

She settles sideways on his lap again, her arms around him and the water jets massaging their muscles as they regain their composure, Robin exhaling warm air against her neck and enjoying the soft kisses she peppers over his knuckles when she brings down an arm from around him, laces their fingers together on her lap, and then raises their joint hands to her lips. His free hand is splayed against her spine, his head drifting down to kiss her shoulder, her breast, the sore red spot on her chest, and Robin feels a calm settle over him now that she's here, in his arms, and god, he has _missed_ her.

They rise on shaky limbs after a while and gather her bathing suit from where it's still floating around the jacuzzi, turning off the jets and pulling out the giant stopper on the bottom of the tub to drain it from the evidence of their activities, and then head for the shower together. He washes her hair, something he hasn't indulged in since they moved here (in fact, he suddenly realizes, this is the first time they've showered together since they came to the White House), and it feels like coming home, having her so close, warm water falling over them as he massages lavender scented suds out of her hair and dots little feather-light kisses over her face.

Once the water's off, they hold each other for a minute, just one, and then keep their routine going. In seconds there's a thick, fluffy towel wrapped around his waist, another around her torso, her hair wet and messy when she shakes it as she steps out of the shower, and Robin cannot take his eyes off her. She's beautiful. Ethereal and stunning as the leftover steam from their hot shower envelops her, wet locks of her hair sticking to her cheeks as she smiles at him, neither of them saying anything so as not to disrupt this serene cocoon they've created.

Regina watches him dress, her eyes hooded and tired but no less hungry as they roam his body. He leaves the tie hanging around his neck without a knot, the first three buttons of his shirt undone, sleeves rolled up to make himself more comfortable, and he pads barefoot around the room, gathering her pajamas and meeting her in the bathroom again. She's told him how much she loves it when he does this, when he slowly takes off her towel and dresses her, lips lingering on her skin in various parts of her body as he helps her shrug on her soft silk pajamas, the silvery blue of the fabric accentuating the sun-kissed, golden undertones of her skin, the darkness of her hair, the perfect balance of maple and coffee shades of brown in her eyes, and Robin stares, mesmerized as he takes her hand and walks her back to the bed, where they both cuddle together, facing each other and hovering close after he sets his alarm.

His index finger travels slowly down the side of her face, and then Regina's lips are on the tip of his nose, dropping a loving peck there. His own lips find her cheek, her brow, her chin, murmuring _goodnight_ s in between kisses, and Robin basks in the softness of her smile as she drifts off to sleep in his arms, his eyes closing to join her a few minutes later, when the warmth of their bath and the exhaustion of his limbs after their activities finally seeps in and drags him into a peaceful slumber.

* * *

The White House Easter Egg Roll takes place in the South Lawn on the first week of April, with over thirty thousand guests in attendance, among them members of Congress, chiefs and employees of different government agencies, foreign envoys, and the presidential cabinet, as well as children from local public schools, orphanages, shelters and hospitals, all invited for an afternoon of fun and games. It's a very public setting where the White House doors are open to government members and regular citizens alike, and includes an array of events and celebratory gimmicks. There's a stage for performers and entertainers that vary throughout the day from local bands to international rock stars, a booth for cooking demonstrations from some of the most acclaimed chefs in the world, a sports field complete with baseball, rock climbing and soccer instructors of the highest prestige, and a story time stage where known celebrities and members of the cabinet read Dr. Seuss to the children in attendance, while accompanied by several beloved characters from the classic tales.

Roland's favorite part, though (and Robin has to admit it is his as well, if only because it was his boy's idea and Regina made it happen), is the curvy, purple slide that goes from the tennis court that's been set up on the White House roof all the way down to the South Lawn.

The slide is closed at the moment, so that all the children can make their way to the big field where the egg roll and hunt has been set up, and Robin watches as his son frolics through the giant green space and gathers eggs that he proudly shows to his father and dumps in the basket Robin's holding, before running off again to find more. The eggs are made of wood, to avoid unpleasant surprises later in the year in case one of them goes missing, and there are also egg-painting stations, where most of the older kids seem happy enough to avoid the hunt and just sit and decorate empty eggshells on this cheerful, sunny day.

Regina is stationed at the entrance to the South Lawn, greeting some foreign diplomats and their children as they arrive, urging them to join the hunt and learn their traditions. Ashley is with Roland, watching him and helping him gather more and more eggs to bring back to the festive little basket still in Robin's hand, and Belle and Ruby are off to the side, talking and laughing as they watch the youngsters running about. It's an all-around wonderful event, and chef Lucas has prepared a lovely brunch of spring dishes and healthy, kid-friendly food that has everyone going wild. Eggs, omelets, French toast and waffles, egg salad sandwiches, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, freshly diced fruit, along with cheeseburgers, chicken fingers and hot dogs (all three served with celery sticks or garden salad on the side, something Roland complains about loud enough for Granny to hear him and smirk in Robin's direction), and an array of drinks ranging from chilled juices and slurpees to coffee, hot apple cider, and cocoa, with sodas and candy being offered by the cabinet members dressed in Easter Bunny outfits and positioned throughout the lawn. David is among them, and Robin laughs as he sees Mary Margaret, the Vice-president's wife, take their newborn from his furry white arms and rock him, attempting to calm him while the little tyke screams bloody murder. If Robin didn't know any better, he'd say the child is scared by the giant rabbit mask on his father, but baby Neal is not old enough to discern shapes yet, so it's more likely that he's just hungry (Robin remembers his own son's cries for sustenance all too well).

There's allotted time for a speech usually given by the First Lady, but seeing as Regina is no longer married and therefore, they have no First Gentleman to address the crowd, it is her who does it, welcoming everyone, making special mention of the schools selected to participate in this year's celebrations, catching Roland's eye and winking as she declares that the slide is open once again, laughing when the boy runs up to the podium just as she's stepping down from it and takes her hand, begging her to play in the slide with him. It's not appropriate, and it could spark rumors if the press realizes whose son it is that she's talking to, so Regina makes her apologies to Roland, tells him she can't go on the slide right now, and then distracts him by bringing him over to one of the Dr. Seuss readings, sitting with him and other children on a blanket placed in the freshly cut grass and taking in the words of The Cat in the Hat as read by Ursula, her chief of staff, who sits between Thing 1 and Thing 2 in her navy slacks and blazer and smiles when one of the kids brings her a tiny yellow wildflower. Robin doesn't really have much of a relationship with Ursula outside of work, but he likes her, finds her interesting and loyal, qualities he knows Regina admires greatly.

Robin compliments chef Lucas on her cooking, makes small talk with Belle when Ruby walks off to get more cider (she's made a habit of avoiding him now, it seems, and he knows they'll have to discuss the presidential elephant in the room very soon), and then proceeds to admire Regina from afar. She's dressed down today, comfortable, in fitted white jeans and Converse shoes, a blue top, and a matching blue-and-white pinstripe blazer to finish it off. Robin finds he quite likes this casual look of hers, with no accessories but a pair of simple dangling earrings and the white bead bracelet Roland made for her for her birthday earlier in the year (there had been no celebration, just video games and a sleepover with Roland the night before, carrot cake from the chef after lunch with an off-key rendition of the birthday song performed by the staff, and then badly wrapped gifts given after hours while hiding in her room, among them a set of diamond earrings from Robin and the bracelet from Roland). She catches his eye, looks around to make sure no one's paying particularly close attention to her, and then winks in his direction, turning away when Mary Margaret taps her on the shoulder, and cooing at the baby in the woman's arms with a dazzling smile on her face.

The Easter extravaganza lasts well into the afternoon, and only when the sun begins to set do the guests start to leave, showering Regina with compliments and thanking her for a lovely day. Robin sends Roland up to his room with Ashley and stays behind to watch over Regina as she says her goodbyes to every single person waiting in line to do so. Stars begin to dot the sky by the time she's done, and she gives him a tired smile before her eyes turn mischievous.

"Agent Locksley," she starts, maintaining propriety in case anyone's listening, "is Roland already in bed?"

"No, ma'am, he should be just about to take his bath," he replies with a quick look at his watch.

"Would it be alright if he comes down for a moment?" she asks, and Robin has no clue what she's planning, but he trusts her, nods his head without even questioning her intentions, and goes in search of Roland, promising he'll be right back with the boy.

His son is fussy, tired and a little groggy from his exposure to the sun while running around all day, but the second Robin mentions that Regina wants to see him, Roland jumps out of his closet, where he'd been trying to choose a pair of pajamas, and runs to his father, telling Ashley he'll be right back for his bath, he has to go see the queen first ("because she's my best friend, you know," he blabs), a smug little grin taking over his face, making Robin laugh.

When they make their way back to the South Lawn's entrance, Regina isn't there, and they're greeted instead by an usher that tells them she's waiting on the roof. They take the elevator up, sidestepping the entrance to the tennis court and making for the light on the other side, where Regina sits relaxed and lovely in the night… right on the mouth of the slide.

"I owed you one, didn't I?" she tells Roland, beaming when his excited screams of _YAY!_ permeate the atmosphere, and Robin hangs back as his son runs up to Regina, holds her hand and lets her move him to sit between her legs.

"Robin, will you give us a push?" she asks him then, the slip of his name not fazing him in the least (there's only two agents around anyway, and they're by the elevator landing, too far to have heard her).

"Of course, milady," he says mockingly, bowing a little before he moves forward, placing his hands flat on her back.

"Ready, Roland?" she asks the boy, who smiles from ear to ear and nods enthusiastically.

"Off we go then," she says, and Robin pushes them into the slide, unable to contain his laughter when he hears her excited giggle and Roland's eager yelling as they go down the giant plastic tube.

Two minutes later, they're back on the roof, sliding down again, and again, and again, until the moon is high up in the sky, illuminating the lawn and alerting them to the late hour.

"One more, Regina, please?!" Roland asks when she decides to call it a night, and if Robin knows his beloved, she'll fall right into that pouty, dimpled trap his son has just laid out for her.

"Fine, but just one, okay?" she gives in, "It's past eight, we both need to bathe and sleep."

Her voice is firm, booking no argument, and Roland nods, a little deflated, but then he's back to excited squeals when Regina asks him to sit behind her this time.

"That way you can protect me as we slide down, alright?"

The boy happily agrees, opens his legs wide on either side of Regina, his clumsy little feet bumping into her upper thighs, arms wrapping around her middle and head nuzzling against her back, his cheek pressed flat against it. Robin pushes them, and there is laughter and more screams all the way down.

He meets them downstairs this time, and they walk together to the residential wing. When they reach the hall that separates their rooms, Robin lets Roland kiss the tip of Regina's nose as he says goodnight and smiles when she kisses his in return, throwing Robin a soft smile and tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear before she turns and walks down the hall.

Ashley is waiting for them in the room, ready for the child's bath, but Robin tells her to go ahead and relax, he's got this.

"Daddy, isn't Regina the best queen in the whole wide world?" Roland asks sleepily half an hour later, when Robin is tucking him into bed and landing a kiss on his forehead.

"That she is, my boy," he confirms, not even bothering to correct the title.

His son drifts off to dreamland not ten minutes into their bedtime story, and Ashley wishes him goodnight when Robin steps through the connecting door to his room.

He strips off his suit, hastily getting rid of that wretched tie and the stupid earpiece, and collapses in bed, the cool, fresh sheets welcoming him, accelerating his relaxation. He's asleep in seconds.

* * *

The next morning arrives with horrible news. Robin is shaken awake by Ashley before the clock strikes six.

"So sorry to barge in like this, but I think something's wrong."

"What do you mean?" he mumbles, still sleepy.

"Roland had a weird dream, so I went to get him a glass of milk down in the kitchen, and on my way there, I saw President Mills walking to the situation room with a bunch of military officers and telling Ursula to get the Attorney General in here as quick as possible."

"Is Roland okay from his nightmare?" Robin asks her then.

"Yeah, he was asleep again when I got here, but Robin, I think something bad is happening. She looked really worried."

He wastes no time dawdling, gets dressed as fast as possible and is right outside the door of the situation room in less than ten minutes, knocking softly on the wooden barrier until Ursula opens to greet him.

"Robin, is everything okay?" she asks.

"I should ask you the same thing. What's wrong? Why is the Attorney General on her way?"

"There's been… a development," she tells him tersely, still not fully opening the door to let him through, and then it's John's voice he hears calling out to him as he makes his way to them, half-walking, half-trotting to the door.

"Ursula, you look positively radiant today," he compliments, and she rolls her eyes (though Robin could swear she also smiles the tiniest bit).

"Stop with your games, Little, we have a real situation at hand."

"What's up?" John asks, concerned now at the serious tone in which Ursula speaks. The woman steps out then, closing the door behind her to address them properly.

"An operation against the Juarez Cartel has been underway since a month before President Mills took office, apparently some of our best DEA agents were sent in to investigate, two of them were under orders to infiltrate the cartel once the rest of the team left Mexican territory."

"Infiltrate a cartel with no backup? That is madness! Who would even think of something so—" starts Robin, but Ursula gives him a look, one that basically says _Who do you think, moron?_ And Robin gets it.

"Alright, and what's happened to the agents?" he asks after letting out a frustrated breath.

"The cartel found out who they were. One of them was executed on the spot, the other is alive and taken prisoner, we think he's being held until they can ransom him or use him to send a message."

"Executed just like that?" John asks, indignant.

"I'm afraid so."

"King planned this, didn't he? He wanted to see her fail so he set this thing up and now it's going to look like it was her fault. That bastard!" Robin growls, kicking at a nearby coffee table.

"We can't focus on that right now," Ursula tells him, "One of our guys has been kidnapped by a drug cartel. Our main goal is to see him safely home. We've already obtained permission from the Mexican government to start a rescue mission inside their borders. Seems that summit President Mills had with President Sanchez last month worked in our favor."

"What's the plan?" John asks.

"We're still trying to figure that out. There are several options for his extraction, but they all have their risks, so President Mills wants the Attorney General and the Acting Administrator of the DEA here before she makes any decisions."

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go hear what our options are."

"Robin, this doesn't concern you," she tells him, and he sees red.

"Like hell it doesn't!" he barks at her, but John claps his shoulder and tells him Ursula's right.

"Our job is to make sure whoever comes and goes inside this place during the mission is clean and of proven identity, it'll be chaos while they solve this, we need to be on the lookout for whatever issues may occur here."

"I worked on intelligence strategies for the British government, surely I can help," he insists, but Ursula shakes her head.

"I promise I'll keep you updated, but for now there's nothing you can do."

"Ursula, I can—" he starts again, but she loses her patience.

"Agent Locksley, this is not part of your charge. If you want to help, simply do your job, and let us do ours," she barks at him before turning around and walking back into the situation room, shutting the door in his face.

* * *

Two days go by and not a word from anyone. Regina doesn't call for him, doesn't even reply to his texts asking her if she's alright, and he's told by the maids that meander the halls that she's been in the situation room more than anywhere else, assessing and speaking to every single military officer that has walked in and out of the White House offering to help, officers whose security Robin has to oversee without any indication as to how things are going with the kidnapping issue.

On the third morning, he hears the maids comment on how Regina didn't sleep in her bed the night before, but rather was found looking tired and gaunt, half-asleep on the couch inside the oval office, exhausted from trying to figure out how to save this man she's never met. He hears from Ursula that everyone is pulling for a different strategy, and none of them supports the one Regina seems more keen to enact, so he texts her, offering encouragement.

 **RL:** _Forget all the voices telling you what to do and do what you think is best. You are more than capable of handling this, my love, don't let anyone make you feel like you're not._

By the end of the afternoon, he finally gets a reply.

 **RM:** _I made up my own plan. Sent a team to take out the coke labs belonging to the cartel._

 **RL:** _And the agent?_

 **RM:** _They've confirmed that he's at the main house with the Juarez leaders, the team will deploy a small force to get him out unharmed after we make those labs explode._

 **RL:** _But?,_ He texts back, sensing her hesitation. _  
_

 **RM:** _No one here thinks it's going to work. They say it's too risky._

 **RL:** _And is it?_

 **RM:** _Yes, but so is every option they came up with._

 **RL:** _How long until you know if the plan succeeded?_

 **RM:** _At least two hours. I'm still in the situation room with the others, I'll let you know how it goes._

 **RL:** _It'll be fine, my love. You're doing your best, no one can ask more than that from you._

He's not expecting an answer, at least not until there's news, so Robin moves to put the phone back on the top drawer of his office desk while he gets some more work done, but then he receives another text, and smiles at the simple but heartfelt sentiment it conveys.

 **RM:** _Thank you._

The mission is a success, and Regina holds a last-minute press conference at ten o'clock that night, where she speaks directly to the rescue operation leader and to the agent now flying back home aboard the jet with the team. He thanks her profusely, they have a minute of silence for his fallen comrade, and then she welcomes him home when they announce that the plane has crossed over into US airspace.

Everyone is in awe of her actions, her decisiveness, and Robin smiles proudly from where he watches her, half-concealed behind the makeshift stage while she stands at the podium of the White House Press Room and addresses a few reporters, providing a couple of details on the mission but remaining tight-lipped about the classified information, much to the chagrin of her interviewers. She doesn't tell them how this has all been a setup, a fool's errand of a mission that King timed so that it failed while she was in office. She doesn't rat him out to the world like Robin would want her to, but that's who she is, class and poise and no mind games or tarnishing of reputations, she just lets her work speak for itself, and today, it speaks volumes.

The only downside to the notoriety of her triumph is that it's been over a week and Robin has not been able to spend time with her, as she's in appointments and press meetings from early in the mornings until very late at night. She's told him how tired she is during their little stints of texting, the only link they have to each other at the moment while they're so busy, and he aches to soothe her, to massage the soreness that has more than likely settled in her muscles and help her relax.

He wants to do something special for her, something that will make her smile and rest and enjoy herself for a bit, because it's been a stressful few days and she deserves a night off, but he's going to need some help this time.

His trek to the kitchen on Friday morning is carried out with purpose, his mind set on enlisting Granny's services. She knows about them, after all, and she's proved nothing but trustworthy since she found out, so it seems a good idea to ask for her help. She's stirring something in a giant bowl when he arrives, Ruby peering over and dipping a finger into the concoction.

"I said no sampling!" the chef barks at her, but Ruby laughs, grabs a spoon and dips that into the bowl next, humming at the taste of something Robin can't see from here he stands. He clears his throat to alert them to his presence, and when they turn to him, startled, he finds Granny's apron smeared with a bit of chocolate, her face screwed up in anger over Ruby's antics.

"I hope I'm not interrupting?" he asks, and the elderly woman's face softens into a pleasant smile as she greets him.

"Not at all. What can I get you?" she starts, but Ruby's already waving a hasty goodbye and saying she has lots of things to do.

"No, no, stay, I need to talk to you," he stops her, and he could be wrong, but he thinks he sees her shoulders sag in defeat, her body seemingly melting into the stool next to them.

"What do you want to talk to me about?" she asks innocently, looking everywhere but at him. It's only the three of them in the kitchen at the moment (Belle and the others are serving a very fancy brunch to Regina, the rescue team and the agent they saved), but Robin still sweeps his eyes over the space, making sure no one else is around before he speaks.

"I know you know," he says simply, and Ruby's eyes widen.

"Know what?"

"You silly girl, I told him you knew before I did, now stop pretending and own up to it, for crying out loud," Granny pipes in, and the brunette flushes in embarrassment as she finds Robin's eyes again.

"Ruby," he tells her gently, "it's alright."

She gives a visible exhale at that, then does the same thing he did just moments ago, looking around to make sure no one but Granny is listening, and launches into a long-winded explanation.

"President Mills doesn't know I know, and I won't tell her anything, I swear, and I don't think less of her for it, I mean look at you! Not that I look at you that way, I don't, I just think she should do whatever and whoever she wants… Oh god that didn't come out right."

"Ruby," he starts, trying to calm her down, but she's rambling right through his attempts at soothing her nerves.

"Look, what you do with your personal lives is none of my business, and I'm sorry that I didn't tell you that I knew, and I know you're probably angry, but I promise I didn't say a word, not even to Granny, we just discussed it on Roland's birthday when we both realized we knew, but I didn't tell anyone and I _won't_ tell anyone, you can count on that, just please don't hate me, it was an accident that I even found out in the first place."

"How _did_ you find out?" he asks curiously, and to his surprise, she rolls her eyes at him, seeming more herself when she takes a deep breath and taunts him in her answer.

"Are you kidding? You know her better than anyone who's ever worked for her, you get all stupid and dreamy when you talk about her, and you look at her like you could eat her with a spoon. It's not that difficult to put two and two together."

Robin can feel his cheeks grow hot at the accusations, but he supposes she's right, he's never been good at hiding his feelings for Regina when she's near him, the only reason no one else has noticed it yet is because they haven't bothered to look.

"I had my suspicions for a while, and then Roland confirmed it the day before we left for Mexico."

"Confirmed it? But Roland doesn't know."

"Oh, he doesn't," she assures him when she sees how her words have his pulse racing and his eyes jumping, "but we were talking about her, which, by the way, she's all he talks about, did you know that?"

"I do," he agrees with a grin.

"Well, we were talking about her, and he said something perfectly innocent, about how much he likes living here at the White House because now President Mills doesn't have to hide outside in the bushes to visit him like she had to in Maine…"

"Oh dear god," Robin says then, slapping his face with his hand and laughing. Of course Roland would say that, of course. He'd warned his son not to talk about his sleepovers with Regina back home, because bad people could be listening and then say bad things to her about it, but Ruby isn't a bad person, and Robin is sure his son knows that, and therefore felt no fear in disclosing such information to her. He'll have to talk to his boy about discretion again, it seems, and be clearer in what it is he can and can't say.

"Our little chef is quite fond of her, isn't he?" Granny asks him then, and Robin can't help the smile that breaks out on his face.

"He adores her," he confirms, and Ruby's audible _Awww_ makes him laugh again.

"So wait, you're not mad at me for finding out?" she asks him.

"Not at all. In fact, I need your help," he tells her, then looks at the chef, "both of you."

* * *

Saturday arrives and Robin is in great spirits now that his plan is in place. He's set everything up, has even managed to find an excuse for Regina's assistant Ingrid to clear her schedule for the afternoon, citing that there is a dinner with foreign diplomats coming up in two weeks and the President has yet to discuss the menu with the chef and the decorations for the grand hall with Tuck. There's not much on the itinerary for the day, so while it does seem to irk her a bit, Ingrid still agrees to rearrange the three meetings Regina has after lunch, if only so that she, too, can have a few hours off from her tasks.

Regina texts him at around lunch time, asking about his little ruse.

 **RM:** _Robin, why did I just lie to my assistant and tell her that I did indeed talk to you about possibly clearing my schedule for the day?_

She's not happy, and for a minute he second-guesses his plan, wondering if maybe he's gone a little too far by meddling with her duties.

 **RL:** _Don't get mad._

 **RM:** _What did you do?_

 **RL:** _You and I are going out tonight._

 **RM:** _And you didn't think to ask me first?_

 **RL:** _Regina, would you like to go on a date with me?_

She doesn't reply, but his phone is chirping out its horrid, pitchy ringtone a minute later, and he ducks into the bathroom down the hall from his office, making sure he's alone and locking the door before he pushes the green button to pick up her call.

"You're kidding me, right?" she asks before he can even utter a hello.

"Is it really that far-fetched for me to want to spend a nice evening with you?" he throws back.

"You know how risky that is, I can't believe you lied to Ingrid just to set up an impossible outing. She had to reschedule _three_ meetings, Robin."

"She assured me they were all minor things that could easily be fit into your schedule for Monday, otherwise I wouldn't have asked her to do it," he tries to appease, and he hears her huff on the other end of the line before she speaks again.

"You can't just barge in and mess with my job like that," she snaps.

"I didn't mess with anything, Regina. I only asked your assistant to give you half a day off, excuse me for wanting to give you some time to relax after all that's happened."

Her voice softens then, but it is no less firm when she tells him, "You don't get to manage my time, Robin."

He's angry, so angry, because all he wants is one stinking minute alone with her, one damn night where he doesn't have to creep into her room and hide from everything, and here she is, mad for no reason and screwing up the entire evening he has planned for them.

"You know what, Regina? Fine. You're the bloody president, do whatever the hell you want."

He hangs up then, frustrated, and shoves the phone in his pocket before splashing some cool water on his face and making his way back to his office. Before he realizes it, it's the end of his afternoon, and he's done nothing but work, not talking or even acknowledging anyone around him, just focused on the paperwork and sulking over his fight with Regina.

He runs into Ingrid at around six, and she tells him he must have misunderstood President Mills, because she had asked her to stop whatever rearranging she was doing and let the meetings run their course today. She's wrapping up the second one now, she informs him, and doing quite well. The soft, condescending tone she uses to inform him of the new development angers him further, because it's so clear that she's fishing around for an apology for his 'mistake', but oh, she has another thing coming, because he's in a foul mood, and he's not going to suffer her smug remarks.

"Ingrid, get the hell out of my way," he barks, barreling forward and glaring at her when she stares at him, scandalized by his rudeness.

He slams the door to his room when he reaches it, calls Ashley and asks her to please take Roland downstairs to dinner, he's not hungry tonight.

* * *

 ** _*runs and hides*_**


	7. Chapter 7

**_Sadly, I don't own them._**

* * *

Robin tries to sleep. Tries to distract himself from the little stabbing pain in his heart, but he can't, and somehow he finds himself walking the grounds at dinner time, making his way to Greenhouse B, startled when he finds twinkle lights decorating the inside of it, a small table for two set with candles and a small bowl full of grapes, with several covered dishes on a little cart on the side. In his anger, he'd forgotten to tell Ruby and Granny that the date wouldn't be happening. They've set everything up exactly as he'd imagined it, cloth napkins and flowers, a basket of dinner rolls that smell like heaven, champagne chilling in a silver ice bucket… What a waste.

He slumps in one of the chairs, elbows digging into the table as he laces his fingers and rests his forehead against them, hating every second of this agonizing moment. He could've had a lovely night with the woman he loves if only he hadn't screwed up. Because he did, he screwed up. He can see that now that he's cooled off. In trying to surprise her with a nice evening together, he'd sought to try and control her time, hadn't even asked her if she wanted to join him for dinner, he'd just gone ahead and planned everything without her knowledge or consent and meddled with her presidential duties in the process. He's a moron, plain and simple.

"Is this seat taken?" a raspy, _beautiful_ voice speaks then, and he looks up to find Regina there, smiling softly at him and waiting timidly by the chair opposite his.

Robin is up in an instant, wrapping her in his arms and crashing their bodies together.

"I'm so, so sorry, my love," he murmurs against her hair, holding her head to him with one hand while the other arm hugs her around the waist.

"I know," she tells him, her arms holding tight around his middle, "it's alright."

"No, it isn't," Robin insists as he pushes back to look at her, "I let you down, I acted like an idiot."

"You did act like an idiot," she affirms with a small smirk, one of her hands drifting up to settle against his cheek, and he leans into the touch, "but you could never let me down, Robin."

"I just wanted to celebrate you, to do something nice for you, and we never get to go out so I thought I'd try and make that happen and give you a romantic evening... I didn't mean to interfere with your duties, or to make you feel like I wasn't giving you a choice. I'm so sorry."

"I know, babe, and I know you meant well, but I'm glad you understand that this wasn't the best way to go about it."

"I'm sorry," he says yet again as he buries his face in her neck, his nose assaulted by the wonderful lavender scent of her hair, and it's like he can finally breathe again.

"I'm sorry, too, I didn't mean to snap at you like that."

"I deserved it."

"Hmm, maybe, but I don't want you to think I don't appreciate the things you do for us, because I do. So much."

She's trembling in his arms now, and Robin just tightens his grip on her, rocking them from side to side and moving his face away from the heaven that is the crook of her neck in order to properly look at her again. He almost whispers an _I love you_ , but her eyes are watery already, and he knows she'll cry if he says it, that she'll feel terrible because this would be the perfect time to return the sentiment and she's not ready, so instead of putting more of a damper on their evening, he lets his hands caress their way down her arms until he can hold her fingers, bringing both her hands to his lips and kissing them, throwing her a smile.

* * *

"How did you know where to find me?" he asks her later, when they've finished eating their dinner (a delicious lasagna Robin will have to thank Granny for tomorrow), and are sprawled on the thick camping blanket he'd brought out here this morning with this exact purpose. Regina is on her side, her body molded to his as he lies on his back, his arm pillowing her head, fingers playing idly with the ends of her silky hair, his suit jacket draped over her as they stare at the sky above them, dotted with bright stars in the darkness that hides the two of them from the world.

"I ran into Ruby. She seemed to be under the impression that I'd be out here with you instead of at the oval. Wanna tell me what that's about?" she asks lazily.

"Ruby knows," he admits simply.

"I figured."

"I didn't tell her."

"I figured that, too."

"You're not angry?"

"Not anymore," says Regina, burrowing closer into him to prove her point.

"Chef Lucas knows too," he reveals then, and feels her stiffen against him.

"Did Ruby-" she starts, but Robin shakes his head, his chin colliding softly with her hairline.

"No, it wasn't Ruby, she just figured it out. They've promised not to say anything."

"And you trust them?" she asks apprehensively.

"I do. They've known since before you went to Mexico and have yet to say a thing to anyone but me. They helped me put this together for us today, that's why Ruby thought you'd be here."

"What if they accidentally blurt it out to someone?"

"I'm sure they'll be careful enough not to reveal anything accidentally. But… would it really be so bad?" he asks tentatively, "for people to find out?"

"You know it would. The press would turn it into a scandal and it would hurt my reputation with the people, not to mention what it would do to your credibility. I'd be forced to fire you, everyone would question our every action for the past five years, our every decision. You started working for me while Daniel was still alive, they could easily exploit that… I don't want to see my husband's memory tarnished, or my marriage demeaned by fake allegations of an affair or whatever else they could make up to sell papers." Her tone is shaky, a hint of desperation shining through, so he decides to stop pushing. They've had enough bad moments for one day.

"You're right, apologies," he sighs, hugging her closer and landing a kiss on her forehead.

"I'm sorry," she says then, but he insists she has nothing to be sorry for.

"I want to be with you, Regina, if this is the only way that's possible for now, then so be it. I'm not walking away from you, not ever."

She relaxes infinitesimally then, but the arm she has around his stomach moves up so she can scratch her nails over his stubble, something she tends to do when she's nervous.

"Hey, I promise it'll be fine," he insists. "Granny and Ruby are my friends, and they admire you, they won't do anything to harm us."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. They'll keep their promise."

"Okay," she finally says after a moment of silent contemplation, exhaling and melting against him, kissing his cheek.

"And us? Are _we_ okay?" he asks, just to make sure, and it's her lips on his that reassure him, the taste of her all velvety-sweet and familiar and wonderful, like caramel coating his tongue and rendering him as stupidly in love as ever when she pulls away and smiles before answering his question.

"Never better."

* * *

The next week arrives with horrible tidings for the White House. On Monday, they receive information from the CIA that one of their convoys, a large shipment of weapons and armory that had been dispatched to soldiers stationed overseas, has been attacked, its deadly, expensive haul stolen. There are no leads, no indication as to how the hell something like this could've happened, especially considering the amount of advanced technology that the United States government has at its disposal. Regina is livid, stalking down halls and barking orders at people to try and get as much information as they can on the location of the missing weapons, and Robin watches from the sidelines as she makes fast decisions and extends her powerful reach until every pertinent agency and every available resource has been exhausted, searching for clues to the whereabouts of the precious cargo.

By Wednesday, the press finds out about the incident, and all hell breaks loose in the media, but inside the White House, they finally get proper intel. Important, very valuable information from the hidden corners of a little village near where the convoy was last seen, whispers of a French illegal arms dealer named Gaston being behind the bombings that took out a force of forty men and half the weaponry that was being transported. The other half, their informants tell them, is being held by this man in a secure location somewhere in the sandy vastness of the Maranjab desert, ready to be sold to whichever terrorist organization proves the highest bidder.

They don't sleep. They don't eat. They spend their entire time focused on the problem, one that requires all hands on deck because of its scale, and so, unlike the rescue of the kidnapped DEA agent, this time Robin gets to actually _do_ something, gets to discuss strategies with military officers, gets to use his contacts in the UK who work in similar military missions and help Regina liaison with his old comrades in MI6 in order to figure out the best possible approach to the issue. He watches her, sees the bags under her eyes get bigger and darker as the days go by, and he texts her, insists that she get some sleep, that she's no good to the country if she's dead on her feet, but she never replies or acquiesces to his pleas. Instead she soldiers on, chin held high as she addresses every new officer brought to her with possible tools and ideas, until finally, a few hours before dawn on Friday morning, they come up with a proper solution.

Regina sets up a covert mission, an undercover operation that will put some of their best intelligence agents and army men in danger, but it's their best chance, so she signs the order, calls up those in charge of the Bureau of Diplomatic Security at the Department of State, the NCTC, the CIA, and the regiment of the U.S. Army closest to Gaston's camp, to set the plan in motion.

The CIA chooses their best on-site agent for the job at hand, a man by the name of Leroy Grump, who had been in the middle of another undercover intelligence operation in Iran. He scoffs and yammers about his mission being cancelled for this, but when speaking to Regina from the plane transporting him to the site, he promises to get the job done, asking her to stop worrying so much, he's got this.

"We have a group of soldiers waiting for you at a safe location, and from there you'll head out to Gaston's camp. We've been informed that the highest bidder has offered him nineteen million dollars via wire transfer for our weapons. You will offer fifty."

"Fifty?!" the agent asks, bewildered.

"Yes, fifty. The competition can't match that offer, they'll be forced to withdraw."

"And are we actually paying the bastard?" the agent barks on the other end of the line. He's on speaker, so everyone in the room hears the question and waits with baited breath, and Robin realizes they all want to know the answer to that, as well.

"We have the account number that the bidder was going to make the payments to, we'll start a transfer of fake funds to that account the second you close the deal. Gaston won't find out that the transfer is fake until it cancels itself five hours later, so you have until then to get him to lead you to the cargo, secure it, and arrest him for his crimes."

"Five hours, huh?" Agent Grump asks.

"Yes," Regina tells him firmly.

"I'll be done in three."

"I like your optimism, Grump," Emma says into the speaker, earning herself a somewhat indignant look from Regina for interrupting the conversation.

"It's not optimism, sister, it's the truth," he replies to Emma, before addressing Regina again. "Three hours after that transfer's done, you'll have your cargo secure, Madam President, you have my word."

"We're still giving you the full five hours just in case," Regina says good-naturedly before wishing him good luck and hanging up the call.

"So… now we wait?" David asks, piping up for the first time since the decision was made. He hadn't agreed with it, had insisted to Regina that this would only make things worse, that they should just declare the cargo lost and let it die, or send a couple of jets and blow up the entire camp where the weapons are stashed, instead of igniting the intrigue of a possible terrorist threat with the press and the people (which had definitely happened when the information got out), but she'd refused to listen, had put her foot down and declared she was not willing to lose the country millions simply because some lunatic with a god complex wanted to steal them.

"Now we wait," she confirms.

And so they do. They wait, and wait, and once the pilot sends word that he has landed Agent Grump safely with the soldiers and cleared off, they wait some more. After what feels like forever, they receive confirmation that contact with Gaston has been achieved and a deal has been struck, and they get the OK to start the transfer. When that's done, it's back to waiting, and they can do nothing but count the minutes as they pass, staring at the big clock marking the time they have left to complete the mission.

Regina looks exhausted, but belligerently refuses to move from the Situation Room, surviving on coffee and pastries that Robin and Ursula make sure are passed around her every few minutes, so that at least she eats something while this is all going on. She looks so small, so worried, and all he wants is to hold her, tell her everything's going to be alright. She yearns for that, too, he sees it in the wistful glances she throws his way, but then she grows wary, the close quarters making her jumpy, and she averts her eyes from his the second anyone in the crowded space turns their gaze to her.

A little over three hours after the transfer, they get reports of gunfire and a scuffle about forty miles from where the negotiation took place, and suddenly Agent Grump's locator is beeping on their screen, revealing the coordinates of his whereabouts and his vitals. His blood pressure is low, his breathing a little too fast, and Robin's experience speaks out before anyone else can make sense of the graph.

"He's been shot," he informs them, pointing to his BP levels, "looks like he's losing blood pretty fast."

"But he's moving," Ursula counters, pointing at the map, where the tiny red dot that symbolizes the man in question is now heading west at high speed. They must've stolen a vehicle from Gaston in order to get to safety.

A scratchy, static sound breaks through the room then, loud enough to startle them all, and Robin sees Regina's hands trembling, coffee spilling over the rim of her cup as she looks at the speaker.

"Agent Grump?" she asks, "Agent Grump can you hear us? We know you've been wounded, please give us your status."

There's only silence, interrupted every now and then by distant yelling in languages they don't understand, and Regina starts shutting down before Robin's very eyes when the thought that the mission has all gone wrong begins to sink in. And then, thank heavens, their world rights itself again.

"I told you I'd be done in three hours," a gruff voice announces from the other end of the line, and the collective sigh of relief is so loud that Agent Grump hears it, even jokes about it as he adds, "they got a little hostile, but I'm okay, you can stop planning my funeral now."

"Your vitals don't look good, Agent," Regina intervenes.

"You sure know how to sweet-talk a fellow, ma'am," he quips back, his voice growing gentle and tired when he reassures her, "I'm fine. The gunshot on my thigh hurts like a bitch, but I'm fine."

"Agent Grump, this is Vice-President Nolan. Can you give us a status report on the cargo?" David asks into the receiver.

"I'm sittin' on it, sir," Grump replies, much to their amusement, but then Stefan Briar, the surly director of the CIA, takes over the call, seemingly fed up with his subordinate's humor.

"Agent Grump," he reprimands, and then orders, "report your status. Properly this time."

"Cargo's secure and in the hands of the United States government. No casualties."

"And Gaston?"

"In custody. We're ten minutes out from the rendezvous point."

"Copy that, Agent Grump. Extraction team has already landed, they'll take over the cargo and bring you home."

"Yes, sir. Over and out," the agent replies, and the phrase has Regina standing from her seat and calling out the man's name before the line is disconnected.

"Agent Grump? This is President Mills again."

"Yes, ma'am?" he's all business, ready to take orders.

Regina doesn't give him any, only utters a heartfelt "Thank you, you did great work today."

"Any time, ma'am. Jobs like this keep life interesting," he jokes before hanging up.

When the call is over, they all look at each other, at a loss as to how to react to the news. They've done it, they've pulled it off, rescued millions of dollars' worth of weaponry without a single casualty. Suddenly, one of the military officers in the room salutes Regina, and then breaks into applause, his fellows joining him as they congratulate her on a job well done.

The cabinet applauds her diligence as well, and then it's Ursula who dictates a sensible next step.

"I feel like we all deserve a day off, don't you, gentlemen?" she directs the question to the men in the room, but her eye is specifically on Briar, the CIA director, who nods solemnly and agrees, offering Regina a very formal goodbye before he thanks her and takes his leave.

When he's gone, the somber mood in the room goes with him, and the military officers turn to address Regina with less formality, thanking her again and then taking some coffee to go, at Ursula's behest. Robin stays quiet, nods his farewell to those who offer him the same courtesy, and watches as the room empties little by little, until only he and Ursula and Regina are left.

"Madam President, you should get a proper meal, and some well-deserved sleep. I've been told the White House Correspondents Association put their annual dinner on hold when news of this issue broke out, so no need to worry about attending that tomorrow, and I'll speak to Ingrid and see to it that whatever it is you have on schedule is moved to Monday."

"Can that really be done?" Regina asks, and Robin senses apprehension in her tone, as if she can't possibly allow herself a moment to breathe for fear she'll disappoint someone.

"Of course it can, you're the President of the United States and you've just saved us from potential terrorists who would've used our own weapons against us, you deserve a bit of time off," Ursula insists with a smile, finally convincing Regina when she adds, "Little Roland asked for you this morning, maybe you can spend the day with him tomorrow, if Agent Locksley's okay with it?"

She looks to Robin then, and Regina smiles at him from behind Ursula, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"I'm sure he'd love that," he agrees easily, winking at her when he's sure Ursula can't see.

When Robin heads back to his room after dinner with his son and a bedtime story, his plan is to fall on top of the covers and sleep for at least a good ten hours, but then he finds that Regina has powered on the live video footage from her room (it can only be accessed by him, yes, but he's only privy to it when she clicks the button under the study desk to activate it). His television screen is divided into three separate views, one of the bedroom, one of the study, and another of the living area outside the suite. The only movement in the entire feed comes from the bedroom frame, so he chooses that with the remote, and when the tab opens to take up the whole screen, his jaw drops.

Regina is in her bed, unburdened by the elegant grey suit she'd been wearing earlier, clad in nothing but the black silk of her camisole, her hand caressing her bare thigh, coasting over her naked sex as she rolls her hips slowly on the mattress, teeth sinking into her lip as her eyes close.

For a moment, it's like he can't breathe, too caught up in the sight of her and the knowledge that she's turned on the cameras to give him a little show (because, well, why else would she activate the one video feed that only he can see?). Her hand is now toying with her clit, soft strokes that have her gasping as she moves ever so sensually on her bed, like a siren calling to him. Her free hand is buried under the pillow where she rests her head, but it comes out a second later to play with her breasts, nipples rolling under the pressure of thumb and forefinger over her top.

He's hard just from watching her, his hand drifting down to stroke himself on instinct, his mouth watering with the desire to taste every inch of her, to hear her gasp and moan while he taunts her with his tongue, to feel her squirm under his touch, to suck at her until she's pulling at his hair and screaming his name.

Robin grabs his phone, types a quick message, and watches her on the screen as the beeping of her own phone stops her actions. He misses the tantalizing movements of her body immediately.

 **RL:** _Aren't you supposed to be sleeping, Madam President?_

She doesn't type up a response, but rather looks up at the nearest camera and winks.

He dials her number then, calling instead of texting, because there's no way he can type through this.

"Does this mean I have to finish alone?" she asks as greeting when she picks up, and Robin grins when she raises an eyebrow at him on the screen.

"You're doing this to torture me, aren't you?" he asks, trying to sound indignant, but his tone is full of mirth, if a little breathless.

"You know the way to my room, don't you? Come over and help me out," she taunts back, smiling wickedly at the camera.

"Mmm later. I quite like the view from here at the moment."

"You do, huh?" she tells him, sinking further into the pillows, one hand still grasping the phone to her ear while the other drifts back down to her folds, one finger venturing in and out slowly.

"Oh yes, lovely view, though that top is a bit in the way," he murmurs into the phone, loving the way she smiles, amused at his antics.

"Yet another crisis I must attend to," she says, her voice carrying an official air to it (to mock him, he thinks) before she lays the phone down and sits up, removing her shirt and dangling it from her finger by one of the too-thin straps that had been over her shoulders. She drops it to the floor, taking a moment to squeeze her breasts with both hands, a naughty glint in her eye as she smirks at him through the camera, knowing he can't do a thing right now but stare.

When she raises the phone back from her nightstand to her ear, he growls.

"Enjoying the show, Agent Locksley?" she teases, and he's lost to her, grunts and nods frantically, then remembers she can't see him, so he voices his thoughts, whispers his desire into the phone.

"You're so sexy, my love," he tells her, his eyes never leaving the screen.

"Do you want to watch me, Robin?" she all but purrs, one hand already ghosting down her body, over her ribcage, back up to her breast, massaging there before she moves her fingers to her mouth, tongue coming out to lick at the tips of them, and then those fingers are moving to her tits again, taking a nipple and giving it a little twist that makes her gasp into the phone.

"Fuck, _yes_ ," he answers her, "I love watching you."

Her hand is back on her clit then, legs open, knees bent and feet planted flat on the mattress, giving him ample view of what she's doing, and he licks his lips as he sees her finger thrust inside and then spread the moisture gathered there over her clit, picking up the pace slightly and then slowing down again, delightful little moans bubbling out of her as she does.

"God, you're fucking amazing, you know that?" he tells her.

"Mmmm," is all she says back, her hand falling slack where it holds the phone, so that the little device is tucked up between her ear and the pillow under her, and " _God_ , Robin," she moans as she makes those passes over her clit a little more vigorous.

"Yes, just like that," he coaxes, "I love it when you touch yourself for me, let me watch you get all wet and riled up."

She moans again at his words, the hand that had been holding the phone earlier finding a breast and kneading there, thumb stroking over the nipple before switching to the other and doing the same, a high-pitched, gaspy little sound escaping her.

"That's it, show me how good it feels," he continues, his own hand attempting to free his raging erection from his trousers, fingers fumbling with the button for a moment because he's so mesmerized by her that he can't coordinate his movements. When he's able to finally wrap his fingers around his shaft, he pumps and pumps to the sight on the screen in front of him, tongue wetting his lips as he continues to watch her.

"God, you really need to get over here," Regina says in a strangled whisper, as her fingers abandon her clit in favor of venturing inside her again, three of them this time, her hips grinding against her hand.

"Make yourself come for me, and I'll go make you come again with my cock inside you," he promises, and she whimpers loudly at that, her body jerking as she rams her fingers in harder.

"Fucking beautiful," Robin groans into the phone, never taking his eyes off the enticing image of her on his screen.

She comes with a raspy little scream, twitching and folding in on herself when the pleasure overtakes her, and then she stretches in the aftermath of her orgasm, her body relaxed and jelly-like as it sprawls on the bed. It's the single most glorious thing he's ever seen.

"So," she says breathlessly when she grabs the phone in a shaky hand and puts it back on her ear, "are you making good on your promise or what?"

"Turn this off," he replies, and watches her slowly get up to do just that, "I'll be there in two minutes."

When he arrives in her room, raging hard-on straining painfully against his re-buttoned pants, she's just getting back on the bed after turning off the video feed, the crumpled sheets sliding along her skin as she moves to make room for him and leans back on her elbows for his perusal, her eyes glinting with mischief, teeth sinking into her lower lip.

Robin crawls over her, his eyes caught on hers as she opens her legs to accommodate him between them, and he licks his way up her naked stomach, the valley between her breasts, deviating to one side and then the other so he can give her nipples a good suck, leisurely reawakening the sexual goddess that had gone dormant after her orgasm.

"You're breathtaking," he tells her, and she smiles at him tenderly, her eyes going soft and hooded as his proximity makes her sink back into the pillows, his lips finally closing over hers in a wet, slow kiss that has her moaning into his mouth.

His arm loops over her belly from behind when she tilts on her side, her back flush against his chest. His other arm, the one on the bed, slides under her to pillow her head, his mouth open and lost in the crook of her neck and shoulder, exhaling hot air over her skin and adding a little lick here and there to rile her up further.

"I want you inside me," she tells him, commands him, really, her hand drifting up and back to rest a palm against his cheek when he abandons the spot on her neck he'd been devouring. She forces his face downward as she moves hers up, lips meeting and tongues tangling, tasting, and he's groaning, rocking his hips against her rear as he rasps out her name.

"Inside me, Robin," she says again, her voice going breathy, and the hand that has been roaming her body from her belly to her breasts now skims lower, fingers finding her clit and rubbing slow circles over it, mimicking the way she'd touched herself for him just minutes before.

"Is this how you want it, my love?" he grunts, "Nice and slow? Or do you want it rough?"

She heaves out a frustrated _Robin, please!_ even as she arches into his touch, rolling her hips when he lets one finger sink into the wet heat of her.

"You feel delicious," he tells her, bringing that finger out and up to his lips, watching as her eyes darken when he sucks on the moistened digit, "taste delicious, too."

"Fuck!" she gasps out, her eyes rolling back, then closing when the sight of him licking her from his fingers becomes too much. His hand is back down and on her clit again, back to rubbing gentle circles that grow firmer when he ups the pace just a tad, just enough to get her wild.

"Do you know how hot it is to watch you like this?" he continues, because he knows she loves it when he talks to her, when he tells her just how much he wants her, "how hard I got just from the sight of you making yourself come for me?"

She lets out a _Mmh!_ that he takes as approval when he thrusts two fingers into her, and then her mouth opens, tongue licking at his upper lip in that maddening way she does whenever he gets her all hot and bothered. The angle is a bit uncomfortable for him, lying on their sides as they are, the arm under her going numb from being in the same strained position for too long, and he doesn't want to move, doesn't want to change the position he finds so accommodating to his need to just take her in as she writhes for him, but his cock is straining against the fabric of his trousers as he rubs his erection against her arse, so though he's reluctant to do so, he removes his hand from her for a moment so he can unbutton everything again, sitting up and deciding he might as well lose all his clothes.

Regina coasts a hand down to her clit for the ten seconds it takes him to remove the offending fabric that restrains his access to her warmth, and he takes a moment to look at her, her fingers lazily moving over her clit as she stares right back at him.

"Come here," she tells him, her voice barely audible even in the silence of the room. Robin obeys her command, readjusts himself so that they're on the same position they'd been in before he moved away, her leg now shifting up and back, resting over his, and his hand returns, two of his fingers joining the one of hers she's venturing to her entrance, and he groans at the sight of them intensifying her pleasure together. In and out their fingers go, slowly, tortuously, drawing gasps and moans from Regina as they move.

"Look down," he tells her, and she does, "look at us fingering you together. You're so wet, Regina."

"Mmm," she agrees in a breath, "feels so good. Don't stop."

Her hand goes slack after a few seconds, and she surrenders herself to the pumping of his fingers inside her when he speeds up, the wet sound of his digits gliding fast and hard along her sex sending him into overdrive.

His fingers still after a moment, when she gasps sharply and grinds her arse against his erection again, begging him to take her. Robin can only oblige, the wet slide of her skin against his cock making him groan with anticipation as he raises Regina's leg with his hand and runs his tip along her teasingly, and then he's sinking into her, and her strangled cries of _Yes!_ and _Oh god!_ are all he can hear as he begins to rock against her, his hand squeezing the flesh of her thigh where he holds it up, opening her for him and giving him the perfect angle to hit that spot inside her that makes her come and come.

She's crying out, her shouts muffled against the pillows where she buries her face as he keeps going, and then she snaps her head back and turns it to look up at him, teeth nipping at his chin, tongue licking at his jaw before she bites down on it hard, and Robin hisses, his rhythm faster, harder, until he's rapping into her over and over again, flesh slapping together as she tells him naughty, wonderful things.

"I love having you ins— _mmh!_ — inside me like this," she pants, "god, I can feel your cock ra— _oh!_ — ramming so deep into me. So good."

She prolongs the last syllable, losing herself in the moment, gasping and whimpering and rutting her hips to meet his thrusts.

"Oh, yes!" she rasps, " _Mmmh!_ Right there. Oh, _Robin!_ "

"Fuck, I love it when you say my name like that," he gruffs out against her throat, his nose buried there, taking in the scent of her, his tongue licking salty sweat from her skin. She's fucking perfect, and he won't last much longer, not at this pace, not when she's breathing out how good he feels, not when she's circling her hips and taking him in deeper.

"I wan—" a moan bubbles out of her as he slams into her, cutting off her words, and then she's trying again, swallowing and licking her lips for a moment before she pants, "I need— god! I'm so close, so fucking close, babe."

She doesn't need to say more, he knows what she needs, and he wants to give it to her, but his hand is busy holding their blissful position.

"I can't," he grunts, "Your leg— _fuck!_ — touch yourself, my love."

Regina shakes her head quickly from side to side, drops of sweat beading at her temples as she gasps out, "No. You— _ah!_ —I want – _oh, god!_ —your fingers."

"Can you hold your leg up on your own?" he rasps out before sinking his teeth into her shoulder as he moves faster, harder. She nods eagerly, pulls her leg away from his grasp and holds it up in the air, a little shaky but steady enough for him to make better use of his hand elsewhere.

His fingers find her clit as he slows down his thrusts, and then when he finds the right amount of pressure to make Regina scream from his attentions, he starts moving in quick raps again, ramming into her as hard as he can as he rubs furiously at her clit and breathes out her name over and over again, accompanied by animalistic grunts and passionate whispers of how hot she feels around his cock, how _wet_ , how _tight_ , how fucking _glorious_ she is.

She comes with a strangled cry of his name, her leg falling when the force of her orgasm is too much for her to have full control of her limbs, but then his hand is back on her thigh, keeping it up so he can thrust the few more times he needs, and he comes right after her, swallowing her shouts as he plunges his tongue inside her mouth and robs her of what little breath she has left with a devouring kiss.

They strip the bed together when they finally manage to stand, set it up with fresh sheets and a new duvet from the mahogany linen closet, and then walk to the bathroom on shaky legs, Regina pulling him lazily as he walks behind her, holding her hand and feasting on the view of her rear as she practically glides around the space.

The steam from the shower joins with their hazy, post-orgasm bliss as they caress and touch for the sake of touching, enjoying the intimacy they've been so denied for the past few days, cleaning sweat and remnants of their lovemaking from their skin with soapy hands as the hot water pounds on them from above, massaging their sore muscles.

His hands hold Regina steady around the waist as she dips her head back to wash the shampoo suds away from her hair, and then it's her turn to do the same, her lips kissing up his neck when she does. It's nothing racy, really, just tiny pecks that make him smile as he shuts off the water and moves them both out, wrapping Regina's lithe form in a fluffy white towel and rubbing his hands over her arms in an effort to stop her from feeling a chill.

They settle into the covers, Robin in nothing but his boxer briefs, Regina back in her silk camisole, joined this time by underwear and the matching silk shorts she'd gone without when she'd started this little adventure earlier. Her warm body stretches alongside his, his head resting on her heaving breast, lips landing a kiss there before he loops himself around her more comfortably, one leg over hers, his arm over her middle as hers comes behind him to rest over his shoulders, her chin just shy of his forehead.

"I kicked ass today," Regina whispers into the night, and Robin chuckles in amusement, her body jostling under him at the action.

"Yes, you did," he admits as she starts drawing random patterns over his arm with her free hand.

"I prevented a terrorist threat," she says then, astounded still by her own feat.

"How did that feel?" he asks, humoring her.

"Thrilling. I was so worried, so frustrated that it would all blow up in our faces, and then it was over and it was just..." she brings her hand up, interrupting the tantalizing trail of her fingers over his skin, and makes a fist in front of him, mimicking an explosion as she opens it with a whooshing sound before she adds, "immeasurable relief… and pride, and… adrenaline. Lots of it. That's why I didn't go straight to sleep, I was too keyed up."

"Quite a rush, then," he offers.

"The best," she agrees, the arm she has over his shoulders shifting, hand threading into his hair as her lips land on the crown of his head. "Thank you," she says, "not just for getting us the contact in MI6, but for being there."

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, my love."

She takes a deep breath beneath him, one that prompts a slow exhale of his own as they both relax into each other, and he'd think her asleep if it wasn't for the way her fingers keep playing with his hair. He raises his head then, bumping her nose affectionately with his and looking into her eyes before he speaks.

"I'm very proud of you," he tells her with all the honesty and love that he can muster, his eyes burning as they skate over her smiling face, then closing as he leans forward and kisses her sweetly.

They have no wake-up call tomorrow, and so they drift off to sleep in each other's arms, unworried about setting alarms to hide themselves from the eyes of others. Robin is an early riser after so many years on the job, so he knows he'll wake with enough time to make his exit and get back to his room before the staff starts meandering the halls, but this is the first night since they moved here that they haven't had to fret about someone interrupting them, and dammit, he will milk that rare luxury for all its worth, and that means welcoming the morning with Regina warm and sleepy in his arms.

He wakes just shy of 8:15 the next morning, having not moved an inch from his comfy position wrapped around her body, his head still pillowed on her breast. He feels muggy, like somehow sleep wants to pull him back under, and he has half a mind to let it, but then remembers he should get back to his quarters soon, in case Roland wakes and goes searching for him.

"And just where do you think you're going?" Regina murmurs groggily, her eyes remaining closed even as she tightens her hold on him when he moves to get up. Her grip is strong, though, and lands him back on the bed with an _oof_ , her body curling into his so that it's her head resting on his chest now.

"It's time for me to leave your lavish chambers, your majesty," he tells her, smiling at the sight of her, hair wild and spread over the pillows, eyes closed and lips pulled up in a lazy grin.

"Mm, I've told you not to call me that. And I don't want you to leave yet," she whispers back, settling further into him, burying her nose in the crook of his neck, her arm heavy over his torso.

"I despise the very thought myself, but there's a five year-old bouncy thing that may just be looking for me soon, and how shall I explain my absence?"

"You tell him you were busy acting as the royal pillow," she replies in her sleep-slurred voice, her eyes still closed, and Robin cannot help but laugh at her adorable musings.

"Somehow I don't see that going over well," Robin argues, "he's the royal best friend, after all, he'll probably say this is his job and not mine."

Regina finally opens her eyes at that, though they remain hooded and droopy as she kisses his chest and then props her head up, the thin strap of her camisole falling over her shoulder as her elbow digs into the mattress, her head tilted to the side.

"He's taking this presidential best friend thing very seriously, isn't he?"

"Oh, he's very proud of his title," Robin nods with a laugh, "the other day he told Chef Lucas he wants to taste every single dish that is made for you before it leaves the kitchen."

"He did not!" she gasps out with an incredulous grin.

"Oh, he did, said it was his duty as your official best friend to make sure all food was, and I quote, 'yummy enough for the queen', or he'd not let them serve it to you."

"He's the best," Regina says then, shaking her head and laughing at the anecdote.

"I suppose he's alright," Robin jokes, earning himself a half-hearted slap on the arm.

They fall silent then, just looking at each other and grinning like fools. He cups her cheek with his hand, and he feels a surge of unbidden love and affection when she leans into the touch and turns her head to drop a kiss to his palm.

"What is it?" she asks when his expression turns soft, and Robin shakes his head with a smile, but answers anyway.

"I'm one lucky bastard, is all," he says, sealing her amused grin with a slow, burning kiss.

It's been clear to him from the moment they kissed for the first time, on that fateful night in her office almost two years ago, but right now, in this moment, the rightfulness of what he already knows sharpens tenfold thanks to his complete and utter happiness: He is hers, and he wants to spend the rest of his life by her side.

* * *

Robin leaves Regina's room in day-old clothes and very high spirits, silently making his way through the passage and then straight down to the kitchens, where his son is already waiting.

"Daddy! I've been looking all over for you!" Roland greets after he barrels himself against his legs, and Robin laughs as he picks him up and tickles him, feeling a sense of peace at the boyish giggle he elicits with the action.

"Fell asleep watching the telly in the entertainment room last night, I'm afraid," he lies. He hates lying to his son, _hates_ it, but it's necessary for now, guilty as he feels for doing it.

"Oh. We didn't look there," Roland says, as if suddenly realizing his mistake. "Ashley why didn't we look there?" he demands, and his nanny only laughs, shakes her head and tells him she had no idea his daddy would be there.

"I'm here now, right? Let's have breakfast," Robin interrupts before they can wonder about his absence any further.

"Granny is making us blueberry pancakes!" he informs happily, only to be interrupted by the chef as she makes her way to them from the pantry on the other side of the room, a pack of flour in her hands.

"Correction, young man, _you_ are making the pancakes, I'm just going to supervise," she says gruffly, and Robin laughs at the way his son just beams at the idea.

"Really?!" Roland asks excitedly, and Chef Lucas nods, sends Ashley to get some eggs and blueberries out of the fridge, and starts setting up while Robin watches them with a smile on his face.

When he drops him off at the oval office, his son is carrying a stack of blueberry pancakes smothered in maple syrup, a glass of orange juice, and a tiny vase with a single yellow flower poking out of it, all precariously balanced on a tray that he has difficulty carrying, but won't let Robin help him with, which is endearing, but slightly frustrating, seeing as they have to walk very slowly into the office to avoid spilling anything. Regina lights up the second she sets eyes on them, gets out of her chair and sinks down to her knees in front of Roland, taking the tray from him and kissing the tip of his nose, waiting for him to do the same before she rises, a bright smile on her face as she thanks Robin for bringing Roland in.

They share secret looks, heated glances that promise more for later, and then he walks backwards to the door, his gaze lingering on the perfect image of the woman he loves feeding forkfuls of pancake to his son, who is now perched on her desk in front of her, tiny legs swinging in the space between them. Robin savors the bittersweet departure, he can't stay and just _be_ with them like he wants to, but he knows Roland will have a grand old time with his best friend, and he knows Regina's day is always brighter when his son is around, so he leaves knowing they'll have a good day together, and that's enough for now.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Happy New Year, everyone! Sorry it took me a while to update this, but as you know, I had to put it on hiatus during the holidays so I could write all that Christmas fic I posted._**

 ** _We're back now, though! And I have it in mind to be done with this fic by the time my birthday rolls around (that's February 15 for those of you wondering) so updates should come faster now that I'm on the clock._**

 ** _Casual reminder: I don't own them (sadly)._**

 ** _Also, a quick note, this chapter makes a reference to Robin and Regina's first time together, which I wrote and posted back in August in the MP Chronicles companion piece, so go read that if you haven't yet (and yes, it's smutty) and wish to better understand their conversation about it in this chapter. However, it's a very small reference, so it's really up to you._**

 ** _I also wrote about their first Christmas as a couple, which is chapter 2 of The MP Chronicles, so you can read that too if you'd like. Both of these prequel stories are from Regina's POV, so for those of you who've asked me if you'll ever get a glimpse of her POV in this verse, you have two full stories in her perspective to read if you haven't yet =)_**

 ** _And now, here's your chapter at last! Enjoy!_**

* * *

Robin spends his morning off walking the grounds with Ruby and Belle, watching Regina and Roland as they play around the gardens while the sun is out, and after a quick lunch with Ashley he decides to stay in the kitchen, watching Chef Lucas move expertly around the space as she experiments with new flavors and recipes. He admires her handiwork, even gets to try a dish or two when she graciously allows him to, and when he takes a moment to go up to the first floor and looks out the window, Regina and Roland have long since made their way inside, the sun beginning to set in a flourish of pinks and golds that bathe the White House lawns.

The phone inside the kitchen rings not ten minutes after he's walked back in and Granny is about to reveal her secret for the perfect chocolate lava cake, and he laughs at the way she curses for being interrupted before she picks up the call.

"What?" she snaps into the phone, and then her eyes widen. "Madam President!" ah, that's why, "I'm sorry, I thought it would be Tucker with some of his usual nonsense. What can I do for you? Yes, he's here. Sure, hold on."

She pulls the phone away, covers the mouthpiece with her hand and offers the device to him with a whispered _It's for you, lover boy._

Robin smirks, shakes his head in mock exasperation, and takes the phone from her.

"Yes, Madam President?" he says, sticking to professionalism just in case there are unwanted ears around, and he catches Granny rolling her eyes at him as she goes back to work.

"Could you come pick Roland up?" Regina asks, and her voice is strange, different somehow. He's confused as he replies.

"Oh, uh, sure. Wasn't he supposed to have dinner with you, though?"

"He was, but I'm not hungry, and I'd rather just get to bed early tonight," she tells him, and Robin frowns.

"Regina, is everything alright?" he asks, forgetting to use her title for a moment, his concern getting the best of him.

"Yes, everything's fine, it's just that I may be coming down with a cold and I'd rather Roland not be exposed to it."

That… is bullshit, Robin thinks. In all the years he's known her, not once has she turned Roland away no matter how she was feeling. She's lying, but he won't get anything out of her through a phone call on the internal White House communications, he needs privacy.

"Alright, I'll go up right now," he answers and hangs up the call, rising from the stool he'd been occupying and dusting flour from his pants before he thanks Granny for a wonderful afternoon and heads out, long strides taking him to the oval office in under two minutes.

What greets him when he opens the door is not the sweet sight he'd left behind this morning. Regina looks pale, her eyes wide and jumpy, even a bit glassy, and she's tense, wary somehow.

"Are you really alright?" he asks, closing the door and lacing his fingers loosely with hers while Roland isn't looking, too busy gathering the many toys he's brought along during the day.

"Yes, I'm just a bit tired, that's all. I think all those sleepless nights finally caught up with me," she tells him with a grimace. It makes sense, he thinks now that he's able to look at her. She's weary, even appears a bit gaunt, large dark circles under her eyes giving way to a perpetually exhausted expression on her face, and he chides himself for not taking better care of her, for giving in to devious activities and late night talks and snogging sessions instead of making sure she was healthy and got some proper rest.

"Stop," she admonishes as she cradles his cheek in her hand, knowing exactly what he's thinking, as always. "This isn't your fault, I'm just overworked and a bit worn out, all I need is to get some sleep and I'll be fine tomorrow."

"Are you sure?" he insists as she drops her hand back down to hold his again.

"Yes, I'm sure," she says, giving him a smile that he's sure is meant to be brave, but ends up looking rather sad instead.

"Roland, can you wait outside for a second?" Robin asks as he turns to look at his son, who apparently can also sense the tension in Regina, because he looks confused, maybe even a little scared.

"Are you okay, Regina?" he asks her, and she sinks down to the floor at eye level with him, puts on a brave face and beams at him, kissing the tip of his nose as she's used to doing.

"I'm fine, sweetheart, I just have a headache."

"Is it because of me?" Roland pouts.

"Oh, honey, of course not!" she hurries to comfort him, taking him in her arms and squeezing him tight. "Work has been hard these last few days, I'm just a little tired, that's all. How about we have breakfast tomorrow?"

The offer seems to appease the boy, and he nods at her, turning around and digging into his bag to pull out Walshie, his stuffed monkey, a gift from Regina from a couple years ago (a battered old thing now, to be sure, but it's his son's favorite, he carries it everywhere, and Robin is sure it has more to do with who gave it to him than with his fascination for simian creatures), and he hands it to her with such serenity, you'd think the boy was performing some sort of magic ritual.

"He'll take care of you," he tells her, and Robin catches the stray tear that leaks out of the corner of her eye and down her cheek as she thanks Roland and rises, watching him walk out of the office and wave his goodbye with a tiny smile.

Once he's gone, dutifully waiting outside for his father, Robin wraps his arms around Regina and pulls her flush against him. There aren't cameras in the oval office, so for now he's allowed to hold her, to soothe her, if only to also soothe the pang of uncertainty that is ricocheting in his heart at her behavior.

"Rest well," he whispers in her ear, pulling back to kiss her forehead, "and call if you need anything."

She closes her eyes and sighs against him, tilting her head up to kiss his lips chastely and tell him _Thanks, I will, I promise._

After dinner, it only takes half a fairy tale from his new book for Roland to fall asleep, and Robin watches him for what feels like hours, hand threading into his soft curls (the boy's hair is so much like Marian's, he muses, and grins at the thought of what her reaction would be to that… Marian never liked her hair). Ashley is still downstairs chatting with Belle, and so he takes this time alone to appreciate every detail of his son's face, his cheeks, his long lashes, his pouty bottom lip, his light snores and cute button nose. He's growing up so fast, becoming his own person little by little, and Robin could not be prouder.

But when he makes his way back to his room and into bed, sleep doesn't come to him as easily as it did for his son, and Robin finds himself in the basement after midnight, entering the empty gym and jumping on the treadmill, running until physical exhaustion overpowers his worries over Regina's behavior, and he's finally able to sink into his bed and rest, the hot shower he takes after his workout acting as the final ingredient to launch him into a deep slumber.

* * *

It's been a week since they dealt with Gaston (who is now the newest inmate of a federal, high security prison in Florida), and things have finally slowed down enough for Robin and Regina to relax, dabbling in a little bit of naughtiness in the process.

Like right now, for example, when they're in the oval office, secluded from everyone, after Regina's phoned Ingrid to ask that no one interrupt her until she's done with her conference call. Only there is no conference call, just Regina sitting at her desk trying to get some work done, catching up on emails and notes she's neglected, while Robin does his very best to distract her, his lips trailing a wet path down her neck from where he stands behind her, leaning down and playfully trapping her in her chair, with his arms encasing her on either side, hands gripping the armrests.

Her breathing is labored, quiet gasps leaving her as he continues his teasing, down to what he can access of her collarbone through the deep V neckline of her blouse and back up, teeth nipping at her jaw before he moves to her ear.

"This brings back memories of our first time," he tells her, and feels her smirk against his cheek.

"You mean from when you— _mmm_ ," she moans when he gently sinks his teeth into her flesh, "ravished me in my office after hours, in the middle of a crisis?"

"Well, in my defense," he says right before diving back in, finishing his sentence with his mouth against her skin, "you're a hard woman to resist, especially in that skirt you were wearing that night."

His hands move to massage her shoulders, then dip into her shirt and loosen the top button, opening it so that her collarbone is on display, tempting and gorgeous under his lips while she moans softly at his attentions, craning her neck to the side even as she continues clicking away at something in her laptop screen.

"I want you," he rasps, one hand finding its way to her breast, kneading and massaging as he continues kissing, his lips now sucking at her pulse point as her head lolls back against him.

"I have work to do," she says, but her voice is so breathy that the protest is barely audible, her hand pulling at the neckline of her shirt and undoing a second button so that he can access more of her flushed, beautiful skin.

"Regina," he groans when she turns her head and licks at his upper lip in that teasing way she always does, her tasks momentarily forgotten as she swivels her chair around completely, until the back of it collides lightly against the edge of the desk and she's looking up into his eyes, his finger following the line of her jaw, the slope of her nose.

"Just because there aren't cameras in here, doesn't mean we can't get caught," she warns.

"Mm," he agrees, "adds a little thrill to it, don't you think?"

"You're incorrigible," she chastises, but there's no bite to the remark, only that naughty smirk that makes him growl against her mouth when he kisses it, tasting and nipping until she's panting again. Robin turns the chair back around so that she's facing her desk, loses himself in her hair, nuzzles her neck, revels in the sounds he elicits from her, and then her hand moves quickly -a little _too_ quickly- towards her laptop, and he catches a few of the words on the screen before she shuts it.

 _...watching you die will be so satisfying._

A bone-chilling sensation overpowers his lust when he reads, and he stops his actions altogether.

"What was that?" he asks, his voice low.

"What was what?" Regina throws back, turning to face him again and pretending she has no idea what he's talking about.

"Don't play dumb, Regina, it doesn't suit you," he tells her, his tone carrying a little more edge than he'd meant it to. He can see she has half a mind to continue the charade, but drops the act when he moves to open the laptop.

"It's nothing," she says, hurriedly turning back to the desk and snatching his hand away from the device, standing from the chair and moving to face him once again, blocking his path.

"If it's nothing, why are you so nervous?"

"Because I know you'll turn it into a bigger deal than it is," she answers.

"Please, Regina," he begs, knowing he'll get nowhere by trying to be more stubborn than she is, "show me."

It must be his pleading tone that gets her to give in. She exhales as she looks down, defeated, and moves out of the way, righting her shirt and crossing her arms over her chest protectively as he opens the computer, scans her inbox when the screen lights up, and finds the message that had caught his eye. It's from last week, and only three lines long, but it makes a weight settle in his heart, a nagging worry that tugs at his soul as he reads the scant sentences over and over again.

 _What a president, you are… so brave, so pretty._

 _Watching you die will be so satisfying._

 _Soon._

The sender's location is encrypted (not that it matters, since the place this was sent from is most likely nowhere near the perp's true whereabouts), and the email address itself is a sequence of random numbers tacked on to a nonsensical group of letters, clearly an automatically generated username, and Robin is willing to bet the account is closed and cancelled by now, with no way to identify the person behind it. They've planned this so that they can't be found.

He's livid in seconds.

"Why was I not informed of this?" he asks, his voice sharp.

"I haven't told anyone, it's probably just a joke."

"This is why you were acting strange that night, isn't it? When you sent for me to pick up Roland. You weren't sick, you were scared."

"I was exhausted after spending nights with no sleep and dealing with a potential terrorism crisis in our country," she says pointedly, "so yes, seeing that on my inbox at the end of the day rattled me a little, but once I looked at it with a clear head I realized there was no point alarming everyone over a silly threat, I'm sure we get thousands of them on the daily, anyway."

"Regina," he starts, his voice low, seething, "this was sent to your personal email account, which is private, hidden, defended with every piece of protective software under the sun, and only known to a select few within this building, explain to me how this is just a harmless prank."

He's angry, so angry, because how could she have kept this from him?! It's his _job_ to protect her, for crying out loud.

"Maybe they just hacked around until they found it, any kid can do that these days. It's been a week and nothing's happened. I'm fine, Robin, please don't make a big deal out of this."

"They're talking about killing you!" he barks back. He should probably keep his voice down, lest someone walks by the office while they're having this conversation, but then he remembers the oval is soundproof, and he is decidedly in no mood to tolerate Regina's attempts to downplay this new, dangerous reality, so if his frustration makes him a little loud, he pays it no mind.

"Robin—"

"No," he stops her. "Don't you _Robin_ me, Regina, someone's threatening your life and you refused to tell me!"

"Because I knew how you'd react!"

"Can you blame me?! They want to murder you!"

"So what?! You think I need you to watch over my _every_ move to be safe? I can handle myself, thank you very much, and I'm not about to disrupt my entire life for something that is clearly some deranged kid's idea of a joke!"

"What if it's not a joke?!" he yells back, "what if they _are_ planning to come after you? Out of every single threat you may be receiving, this is the only one that filtered through, clearly they have access to inside information and cracked down our defenses!"

"Oh, please, stop being so paranoid."

Did she just— He can't _believe_ her, how can she just stand there cool as a bloody cucumber and undermine his worries like that?! How can she have no regard for her own safety, when dread is threatening to overpower everything in him at the mere idea that she may be in danger?!

"So now doing my job is being paranoid?!" he shouts back.

"You've always been overprotective, Robin, this isn't just because of your job and you know it, you're letting your feelings get in the way," she says, her voice shaky.

"And what if I am? Why can't you just let me protect you?!" he fires back.

"Because I'm not going to cower under a stupid threat! I'm the President of the United States, I am _not_ some damsel in distress for you to save!" she spits in reply, and oh, she's done it now. He'd been trying so hard to contain it, to rein in his fears and his exasperation, but he can't now, because it's so ridiculous, this entire thing is ridiculous, _how_ can she not understand?!

"Do you really think that's what this is?!" he hisses, "That it's all about me saving you and, what, being some kind of hero in the eyes of the world?! Is that how little you think of me?!"

Her eyes widen at that, as if she's finally grasped that her defensive attitude has gotten the better of her and wounded him in the process, but he cuts her off halfway through her apology.

"No! You don't get to say that to me. You don't get to do that, Regina. You want to know why I'm so angry? You want to know why I'm so 'paranoid'?" he yells back, mimicking quotation marks with his fingers around the word, "It's because I'm fucking terrified! Do you have _any_ idea how much I love you? How much it scares me that I could lose you?!"

He's reached her, he knows he has, can see it in the way her eyes well up with tears, and it dawns on him that she's never really seen the extent of his fear until now, when he's letting it all out and baring his soul to her right there in the oval office. The realization brings his tone down to a broken whisper as he continues to speak.

"Regina. This, what we have, it means the world to me. _You_ mean the world to me, and I'm so proud of you and what you've accomplished, but this is a dangerous job, and you trying to pretend that it isn't won't change the fact that there are perils out there that could take you from me."

The tears he'd seen her struggling to keep at bay spill over now, leaving tracks as they roll down her cheeks, and her hands are cradling his face before he can properly react, her eyes looking straight into his own.

"I'm sorry," she sobs, "I'm so sorry."

She's shaking her head, her nose rubbing back and forth over his as she does, and he holds her close, loops his arms around her waist and keeps her there as he adds his own apologies to the mix, murmuring a heartfelt _I'm sorry, too_ into the reduced space between them.

"I shouldn't have done this, I should've chosen you over- well, _instead of_ , the presidency. When we discussed it before moving here you said you were fine with it and I... If I'd known that you were so worried I never would've..."

"I know, and that is precisely why I never really told you. I love you, Regina. I _love_ you, and this has been your dream for so long, I wasn't going to let you throw it away because of me, but you have to let me protect you. I need to know that I'm doing everything in my power to keep you safe."

"You're right. I'm sorry... but Robin," she says then, her voice a soft, reassuring whisper that percolates the heavy air between them, "nothing will take me from you, I promise."

"That's not something you can control," he tells her gently, turning his face to land a kiss on her palm where it rests against his cheek.

"Oh, but it is. I have you to protect me, don't I?" she says with a smile, and it illuminates his entire world, his heart feeling lighter now that she's letting him in.

"You do," he vows, "always."

"Alright, then it'll be fine."

"Have you received any others?"

"No."

"Are you sure, Regina?" he asks, still a little doubtful, but they're still standing close to each other, her hands still holding his face as she brings their foreheads together and exhales her answer.

"I'm sure. It's the only email I've received, and I tried that tracking thing you taught me and found a clue trail, though it didn't lead anywhere... But I haven't heard from them again, and the NSA would've let us know by now if they'd picked up anything regarding assassination attempts in our communications systems, I think it'll be okay."

But it isn't okay, and over the next few days more threatening emails start coming in, always from different addresses, always with new encryptions and decoy-type locations. Robin is beside himself.

At Regina's request -and because he's certain there must be someone feeding this person crack codes and other information, helping those messages find their way to her inbox- he's only involved a small and trustworthy team in the search, without letting the rest of the staff find out yet, in case it really is just some random prank (John is one of the agents he's included in the mission, and he seems to agree with Regina's theory, has told Robin that the emails are probably being sent repeatedly because whoever's behind it all wants to see it make the news, nothing else), but Robin knows better.

There's something about it, something different, he's seen death threats before, but there's usually a reason behind it, some power over the victim that the killer gloats about, or a demand that must be met in order to keep them from making good on their macabre promises, but these emails demand nothing, boast nothing, only spit poisonous words and lecherous comments about Regina, her outfits when she's on TV, the way she smiles and how pretty her face would look while she bleeds to death.

Regina gives Robin the password to her email, lets him check it whenever he needs to in order to look for new messages and try to track them, and as the days go by, the depictions of what this person plans to do to her become more and more serious, branching out to include things like 'I will destroy everything you hold dear', and other cold words.

The thirteenth email arrives late on a Thursday night, while Robin and Regina are secluded in her room. He's taken to checking her inbox every hour on the hour, and when he moves to do that as the clock strikes eleven, a new message is waiting for them.

 _I hear you have people looking for me, how quaint._

 _Though I do admit it gives me pleasure to know you're looking over your shoulder, wondering when I'll strike._

 _Soon._

That's how they all end, every single email, the word 'Soon' becoming sort of a signature at this point, and Robin's blood boils. They have a mole, and he needs to know who the hell it is before things get worse.

He's tried to keep Regina calm, telling her repeatedly that he's working on finding whoever's responsible for this, that he'll keep her safe, and at first he thinks the reassurances are more for his sake than hers, but the number of threats has become worrisome, and it starts to wear on her. He notices it after that thirteenth email, when Regina's arms wrap around his waist from behind and her chin digs into his shoulder as she stares at the screen, her voice shaky as she asks, "another one?"

Robin nods, never one to lie to her. He can feel her hand trembling against his belly, but then he's walking back to the bedroom, his hand towing her along, away from the source of their discomfort, as he tells her it'll be fine, he'll handle it, they'll find the culprit.

* * *

His comforting promises aren't enough to deter her worries, however, and it shows the following night, when his mouth is lost in her skin, his tongue savoring every naked inch of her, awaiting pleasured gasps that never come.

"Is everything alright?" he murmurs against her belly, and Regina squirms under him.

"Fine," she breathes, one hand traveling down to thread in his hair, pushing his head down her body. He gets the hint immediately, tongue finding her clit and flicking at it tentatively before it presses flat and firm, drawing a moan out of her. That's more like it.

He chances a look up at her on the next sound of pleasure he manages to draw from her lips, and the view is gorgeous. The lights are off except for the one lamp in the corner of her room, casting a warm glow over them and making her look even lovelier as the light plays with the contours of her face, her mouth open and tongue licking at that plump bottom lip that has gone dry. His tongue is inside her then, swirling and tasting, but something isn't right. She's enjoying it, sure, but she should be wetter by now, more aroused, and even as she writhes beneath him, she's frowning, her nose scrunched up and her eyes shut tightly, as opposed to fluttering closed like they usually do when he makes her feel good like this. It's subtle, the variation in her demeanor, but it's there, and it takes away the joy he'd been reveling in over bringing her pleasure.

"Why did you stop?" she asks, and her voice isn't as breathy as he knows it can get at this point in their foreplay, but rather it sounds far-off, distant.

"What's wrong?" he asks gently as he moves back up to lie beside her, one hand trailing over the bare skin of her side.

"Nothing," Regina insists, "I'm a bit tired, but I'm fine."

She's not being truthful, and he hates it, hates that she doesn't feel comfortable enough to tell him what exactly is bothering her. The hand he'd been running up and down her ribcage now shifts towards her face, holding her chin and pulling her closer, his lips landing softly on her cheek.

"Why are you lying to me?" he counters, and Regina sighs into the space between them.

"Because, I…" she hesitates before admitting, "I don't know how to tell you the truth."

"You know you can tell me anything," he prods, his eyes seeking hers as he utters the words, and then she lets out a shaky exhale, composing herself, looking for the best way to voice her concerns.

"If it was a prank, it would have gone away by now," she finally says.

"Yes, it would have," Robin agrees in a dejected tone.

"That means it's real."

"It is, but Regina, we're working on it. Emma has a lead as to who may be helping from the inside, we figure our best shot is to find that mole and use them to find the real mastermind in all this. We'll catch them."

"I know you will," she says with a small grin, "I'm just… scared. I really, truly thought it was just a cruel joke, I never expected… They want me dead."

And there it is, that's what's distracted her from their lovemaking, what has her frowning and worrying. He sees the realization, the flicker of fear in her wide eyes, made all the more striking by the dull yellow gleam of the lamplight that permeates the room, and knowing that she's frightened tears his soul apart, because he can't fix it yet, can't offer her more substantiated comfort other than a lousy report on how the search is going.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you," he vows, because he knows _that_ much. If anyone wants to get to her, they'll have to go through him first.

"That's just the thing, though. What if it's not just me? They've said they'll destroy everything I hold dear, what if they launch an attack on the country? What if they find out about us and hurt you or Roland?"

"It won't come to that," he promises.

"They haven't even said what it is that they want, I don't know what to do to make it stop," she continues, tears welling up in her eyes as she speaks.

"Regina," Robin tries again, "I swear to you that we'll catch this jerk."

She sighs then, and he finds that she looks a little… guilty?

"I was thinking… maybe you could use some help?"

"I have a full team working on it, and we've contacted some CIA and NSA operatives that are lending us a hand with the technology, I'm sure soon we'll—"

"I meant," she interrupts, "that maybe we could bring someone in who has experience in this kind of thing? Someone talented that we can count on, who won't hesitate to help us?"

"Like who?" he mutters back with a confused frown, "We have the best recruits in the country, some of the best in the world. If anything, the only person missing who's good enough for this sort of situation would be— no." It dawns on him then that _yes_ , this is exactly what Regina means.

"She can help."

"You can't be serious. That woman is insufferable!" he whisper-shouts as he sits up, Regina following until she's mirroring his position, both with their backs flush against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of them.

"They call her The Dragon for a reason, Robin. She could be an asset. You just admitted she's the only one missing who's good enough for this kind of thing."

"She's reckless! It's impossible to work with her," he replies, a headache already brewing at the mere idea of having that crazy woman nearby.

Mal Feuer –known as The Dragon amongst her peers— is a renowned Special Agent from the FBI. Born and raised in Louisiana with a US Army Special Ops officer for a father, she inherited his skills and perfected them under his tutelage. She's incredibly well-trained, one of the best in her field, and has led many federal and state detectives on successful busts of infamous criminals all over the country. Her reputation speaks for itself, shows that she's adept and capable, a well-oiled machine designed to assess and solve complicated situations in short amounts of time and neutralize as many threats as possible while conserving and protecting innocent lives at all costs. She's been given dozens of medals from her fellows and superiors, recognizing her value to the force and celebrating her leadership, but as many prizes as she's received, she's also received warnings, complaints, maybe even a couple demerits.

The problem with Mal Feuer, is that she knows just how good she is at her job, knows no one can hold a candle to her, and she uses that to her advantage on an extreme degree. For all her efficient handling of dangerous missions, she's also known to create ruthless new training plans and strategies that no other officer would get away with, and she's stubborn, very much so. Robin met her three years ago, when Regina had to get involved in a case where two very crucial witnesses to the crimes of a New York mob group had been found dead in their safe house in Maine, days before they could give testimony that would land some of these mob members in jail for a very long time. Robin and Regina weren't together then, but it was a situation that had strengthened their friendship, his support keeping her grounded, with her eye on the target despite how broken she still was over Daniel's death the year before.

Mal had been called in to find out just who within the witness protection program had disclosed the witnesses' whereabouts to their killers. She'd found the mole within the week, discovered an entire web of infiltrators who would pass on details of specific witnesses to the crime families and other wrongdoers that were after them, and after working together so many long hours, she and Regina had formed a friendship of sorts, making Mal an important advisor and valuable contact to the state of Maine under the Mills administration, occasionally lending her skills and knowledge when federal law enforcement issues arose.

Regina admires her, Robin knows that, still remembers how she'd stared at the blonde, red-lipped policewoman with awe in her eyes as she uncovered the villains working in the witness protection offices. Robin himself, however, doesn't have that good of a history with The Dragon.

He'd been part of the strategy team for that operation and a few others where Mal had taken part, and he had always tried to help plan out the missions without using methods that could land them in jail alongside the perpetrators they were after, but Mal wouldn't listen, refused to accept his ideas or his suggestions, and went ahead with whatever far-fetched mockery of a plan she'd formed in her head, even if said plan included dangerous procedures that didn't necessarily go by the book. She'd completely disregard Robin's expertise in the matter and then taunt him, gloating her success when she achieved it without heeding his advice.

"I admit that her strategies are a little… unorthodox," Regina's voice breaks him from the foggy memory of Mal's smug face, "but she's never failed us."

She's right, of course. Despite their misgivings, Mal has never once failed Regina, and this is important, this is about making sure no one harms the woman he loves, so if a dragon is what he needs to find the pathetic tosser making these threats, then a dragon he'll have.

"You're right," he admits as he exhales and kisses her cheek, "I'll call her in first thing tomorrow."

She seems to breathe easier after that, sinking them both down on the bed to cuddle in his arms, dropping tiny pecks against his chest every few minutes while his fingers trail up and down her back in soothing motions.

"Rest, my love," he murmurs, "I'm here."

She does, is finally carried away to sleep by her own exhaustion, her body clinging to his in a subconscious attempt to feel warm, protected, _safe_.

Robin stays awake watching her, until the light of dawn, filtering in through the sliver of open curtain in the window, informs him it's time to go tend to his duties, the first of which is a very important phone call from the secure line in his bedroom.

* * *

He doesn't expect Mal's sympathy, doesn't even expect her to be polite, so he's surprised when the gravity of the situation makes her so, her haughty-yet-melodious voice instantly announcing her willingness to help in any and every way she can.

"I'll be on the first flight out tomorrow morning," she says, sounding almost… reassuring? when he explains why they need her in DC as soon as possible, her crass-worded promise to get to the bottom of this ringing loud and clear in his ears even after he hangs up.

"Don't worry, Locksley, we'll catch the son of a bitch."


	9. Chapter 9

_Thanks for waiting, guys! Here we go!_

 _As a reminder, this story will be wrapping up in the next 3-4 chapters, I hope y'all continue to read and review until then =)_

 _I'll be posting a new AU when this one's done, hopefully you'll stick around for that as well._

 _Anyway, Chapter 9 time! Enjoy!_

* * *

The Dragon arrives like a sandstorm, sudden, ruthless and all-encompassing, shouting orders and demanding very specific resources, smugly insulting anyone who attempts to explain that she needs special clearance to request such things from the White House or the federal government. Robin is late to their meeting, a side effect from being up with a fussy Roland for half the night (it seems his little boy is coming down with the flu, he'll have to take him to the medical wing after the meeting), and Mal doesn't take kindly to his delay, firing passive-aggressive comments that make his frustration flare to the point where he explodes.

"You try staying up with a feverish five year old and then deal with a crisis," he spits at her, and for a second she looks almost contrite, but the flash of concern is gone in a second, replaced by haughty remarks on how if he had called her sooner, they'd be on top of things by now.

"Listen to me, Mal, and listen well," he warns, "you are not in charge of this, _I_ am. We brought you here because Regina trusts you and thinks you can help, not so you can take over my staff and make that high horse you're riding even higher."

It's a tirade he knows will anger her, but instead all he gets is a sneer as she looks him up and down and says, in a low, teasing tone, "So it's _Regina_ now, huh? Didn't know you were on first-name basis with your employer, Locksley."

"Oh, shut up," he fires back, already exasperated.

When they start talking about the issue at hand, though, Mal is all business, listening intently to every detail and asking all the right questions, and Robin finds he's relieved by how important this seems to be to her.

"Where is she now?" the woman asks.

"Situation room, I told her I'd take you there after I debriefed you."

"Alright, what are we waiting for? Debrief me already so I can go meet her."

They work in near harmony, much to his surprise, no barbs or vaguely masked insults as he expected she'd utter the entire time. Instead she's distant, trapped in her own head, it seems, and Robin realizes then that yes, Mal is conceited and smug and even ridiculous at times, but Regina is her friend, perhaps her _only_ friend, this is as personal to her as it is for him.

Regina had told him all about their friendship during one of their late night talks early on in their relationship. She'd told him how she and Mal had found unlikely allies in each other, how they had bonded over having the same kind of childhood, with overbearing mothers that wished to control their daughters' futures and own them so they could reap the benefits, how they admired each other for making it out of that life, painful as it had been to do so. Robin had heard from Daniel (and later on from Regina herself) of Cora Mills's exploits, her horrible treatment of her daughter, the emotional blackmail, the constant criticizing, the never-ending ploys to find her a husband she approved of despite Regina's heart already being set on Daniel, and though she'd died of a heart attack way before Robin entered Regina's service, meaning he'd never actually met the woman, he still despises her for all of it, for the pain she caused, for every single tear her daughter had shed because of her antics. But while he sympathizes, he has never been able to fully relate to Regina on that level, having never suffered that kind of abuse, so he knows how much it means to her to have a friend like Mal who understands, he just never really thought of Mal feeling the same way until now, when he sees the slight hint of fear in her eyes as she assesses the situation, the slight hitch in her breath as she goes through the emails Regina's been receiving.

When they walk to the Situation Room, though, her tough front is back in place, and she greets the President of the United States with a drawled "Why hello there, your royal bitchiness," when they arrive, uncaring about the handful of CIA and NSA agents present, but Regina smiles, big and bright for what feels like the first time in ages, her arms instantly opening to welcome her friend.

"Thank you for coming."

"Should've said something sooner," Mal chastises in return, "Locksley says it was a full week before you told him about this?!"

"Because I thought it was a prank, didn't think there was any real threat to it."

"You need to stop trying to see the best in people, dear. Don't worry, though, the trail might be cold, but we'll find him."

Robin sits next to Regina while the officers and Mal discuss strategies and new focus points for the investigation, and he chimes in with a few loopholes and details he finds in their plans, offers valuable contacts, provides what little new intel has reached him since the last time they all spoke, and even finds himself agreeing with some of Mal's proposed methods to find whoever's helping the killer from within, despite the scandalized tone in which the NSA directors tell her she can't _possibly_ be thinking of interrogating every agent in the Secret Service at gunpoint until they catch the traitor.

Regina is unusually quiet, staring from one person to the other as the conversation grows heated, and her knee is bouncing next to him as the arguments and theories on who could be behind this become wilder and wilder. Robin moves his hand under the table, grasps hers on her lap and squeezes, a silent promise that things will be okay, that they'll fix this. And when Mal and the agents discuss taking Regina to a bunker, and she tightens her grip on his hand under the table in a silent plea to not let that happen, he offers instead to stand guard outside the presidential suite until the accomplice is caught and leads them to the killer, tells them no rogue agent will try anything while he's there to watch over her. Thankfully, they agree.

They're exhausted when they emerge from the Situation Room two hours later, Robin's head pounding as he and Mal discuss final details.

"I know I've given you a hard time in the past, but this is different, they're going after someone I care about, and you might be pigheaded and annoying most of the time, but I know you care about her, too. You have my full support in this," she finally says, only minutes after Regina has retired to the oval, and Robin is surprised by the speech, but welcomes it all the same, offering his hand for her to shake and a small smile as he thanks her.

"No problem," she replies just as Tuck arrives to show her to her rooms. "I'll talk to you later, Locksley."

"Of course, and Mal..." he calls after her as she begins to walk away, her blonde curls swishing every which way when she looks over her shoulder at him as he speaks, "call me Robin."

* * *

Roland's fever is a tad lower, but still high enough to worry him, so Robin takes his son in his arms and finds his way to the medical wing, where Dr. Whale takes a look and prescribes some antibiotics, though he only has one children's dose on hand, given that there isn't a large number of kids in the White House. The doctor assures him he can have someone go buy the pediatric medicine at the closest pharmacy, and Ashley immediately volunteers to go, heads out to fulfill her task while escorted by two agents.

Robin stays with his son, goes old school in his care by pressing a cool, wet cloth to his clammy forehead to try and help bring the fever down. Roland is sniffling, pale and miserable, but seems to gain some color after a while, his mood brightening slightly when Granny comes in with a tray laden with freshly baked bread and two delicious bowls of chicken and dumplings, the smell of the soup making their mouths water.

Robin feeds Roland first, makes sure he eats as much as he can keep down, and then their young nanny is back with the treatment, which the boy takes without a fuss. Ashley also starts making arrangements to spend the night, but Robin waves her off, insists that she go get some rest, he'll stay and watch over his son. She concedes, albeit reluctantly.

"I'll hang around a little bit longer though," she says, running her fingers through the boy's hair in soothing motions, "to make sure he goes to sleep okay."

Robin thanks her for her kindness, and watches as she turns on the TV near the bed and finds some Disney cartoons for them to watch.

"Daddy, can I stay with Regina tonight?" Roland asks after a few minutes, his voice small, dulled by the exhaustion of his tiny body.

"I think it's best if you stay here, my boy, where we can keep an eye on you and make sure your medicine is working. Besides, we don't want you getting Regina sick, and we might need the doctor to look at you again later," Robin tries, but Roland's lip quivers even before he's done explaining, and when he once again asks him to _please_ let him stay with his best friend for the night, Robin breaks, unable to deny his sick little boy anything.

"Let me go ask her, alright?" he finally sighs, and his boy smiles, cuddling with his stuffed monkey as he watches Robin leave the room, Ashley instantly taking his place at the foot of the bed.

"Of course he can stay with me," Regina immediately agrees when he tells her what's happened, "poor baby."

"Thank you," he tells her, relieved, "I told him he could get you sick, and that moving him was probably not a good idea, but he insisted, and he looked so miserable, I couldn't deny him."

"I had a flu shot a couple of months ago, I'll be fine. But you're right, it's probably best if he stays down in the medical wing. I'll go and stay with him instead of bringing him up here."

"No, I couldn't possibly ask you to do that, you need rest from this whole security ordeal, I want you comfortable and in your own room, not cramped up in that hospital bed."

"Robin, it's fine," she says, rising from her desk in the oval office and walking towards him, taking his hand and squeezing his fingers in hers, "I want to. Now go, I'll get changed and meet you down there, okay?"

He sighs his gratitude, taking a moment to press his forehead against hers and ground himself in the moment, in the feeling of her hands clasped in his, her breath fanning against him.

"I hate this," he tells her.

"I know, babe, so do I," Regina agrees, "but right now, we have a sick little boy to take care of, let's just focus on that, alright?"

"Alright," he exhales, ducking his head in for a chaste kiss before they part, Robin heading back to his son while Regina wraps up her day and heads to her room to get ready for bed.

She arrives in the medical wing a half hour or so later, and Roland smiles but doesn't move, only closes his eyes when she kisses the tip of his nose in greeting, a gesture the boy is too weak to return, but when she climbs in the bed with him, he cuddles closer, burrows into her body and hugs her tightly while Robin watches them, finally feeling a little peace after this most hellish day.

But it doesn't last long, that peace, because not two hours later, a harsh reminder of how on edge they all are shakes him awake, makes him jump from the chair he's claimed as his bed for the night, Emma waking up abruptly right next to him.

It had felt inappropriate to stay by Roland's bed with Regina there, too risky, so he'd posted himself outside the door of the medical wing with Emma, to keep it from looking too intimate, but he forgets all propriety the second his son screams in terror, and every fear Robin's been trying to keep at bay is unleashed in full force as the most awful scenarios play around in his head. Someone's here, they've got Regina and Roland, they're going to hurt them.

He and Emma almost barrel down the door as they rush inside, only to find his little boy crying and shaking in his bed while Regina holds him and murmurs soothing things as she rocks their bodies back and forth.

"It's okay, sweetheart, just a nightmare," she tells him, but her eyes are on Robin's, and he knows the words are meant for him as well, to chase away the tragic scene that had started playing in his head the second Roland screamed. She knows him well.

He hears Emma sigh in relief beside him and mutter something about needing more coffee, something about going to put on another pot in the kitchen, and she leaves the two of them to take care of Roland.

Robin's heart is still hammering in his chest as he walks to the bed and holds his boy in his arms, checking his temperature and planting a kiss on his cheek, and only then does Roland seem to realize he's awake, holding on to his father with tiny arms grasping him tightly around the neck.

"There was a monster, Daddy, he wanted to take Regina away," he babbles against Robin's jacket, and it pains him, punches him right in the gut, because Roland has no idea how real that nightmare is for his father right now.

"It's alright, my boy, I'm here," he tells him, "nothing's going to happen to you or Regina. I promise."

It's only when he says that, that his son finally stops sobbing, his puffy eyes already rolling back as the rush of fear-induced adrenaline wears out, and it takes no more than ten minutes before he's back in bed, fussy but asleep enough to not miss his father's arms when they gently place him under the covers.

When he's made sure Roland won't wake, Robin turns to Regina, finds her sniffling where she stands in the corner, her back to him. He's gathering her in his arms in seconds, and she cries against his shoulder.

"He's knows," she whispers brokenly, "he knows something's wrong, Robin. He's terrified and it's my fault."

"He's tired, and he has a fever, this has nothing to do with what's happening, he's just sick, Regina, nothing more," he promises, "it's alright. He'll be fine in a couple of days."

"No, this is different," she insists, "he's never had nightmares before!"

"Of course he has, my love, he's just never had them when you're around, but it's okay."

"God I was so scared, I thought something had happened to him."

"He's alright," he reassures her yet again, "the meds are working, his fever's gone down considerably, he'll be fine after some rest."

She says nothing, only grips him tighter and lets tears fall while his lips drop kiss after kiss into her hair, his arms still firmly wound around her waist as he rocks them from side to side, waiting and feeling her breathing slow as she relaxes little by little.

He doesn't let go of her until Emma's footsteps are heard down the hall, and Regina straightens up, composes herself just in time to address the blonde as she gently pushes a cup of tea in her hands.

"Thought you could use it," Emma explains, and Regina thanks her, turning back to Roland and running a hand over his hair, a small smile gracing her lips when the boy doesn't even stir, his breathing deep and calm.

"Right, you should get back to sleep, ma'am," Robin insists, his tone formal as he wishes her a good night and leaves the room with his colleague, his hands still trembling.

"Hey, it was just a nightmare, nothing happened, they're okay," Emma tells him, making him chuckle humorlessly, because that's exactly what he'd been telling Regina, and he hadn't realized how much _he_ needed to hear it from someone else until now, to assert the reality that they're safe, that it was just a frightened little boy calling out for help with an imaginary threat, nothing more.

"I'll just be glad when this is all over and we can get back to normal," he tells her, his voice gruff, and Emma replies with a simple _I'm with you on that one_ , as they take their posts again.

Robin doesn't sleep for the rest of the night.

* * *

"Good morning, sweetheart," he hears Regina mutter against Roland's curls the next morning, her raspy, sleep-slurred tone making Robin sigh contentedly, the scent of lavender assaulting his nostrils pleasantly when she shifts slightly on the bed.

Emma had headed out somewhere around five, after Robin told her time and again that he was fine, he could take it from here. In truth, all he wanted was a moment alone with his family, and he's basking in that very moment now, with Regina pressed close to him in the cramped space of the hospital bed, his son nestled between them, cuddled against her and stirring from sleep.

"Morning," he says, rubbing at his eyes with a tiny fist before he opens them slightly, and he looks better, Robin thinks, more rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed than he did the night before.

"Time for your medicine, son," Robin whispers after he glances at Regina's watch, and Roland scrunches up his nose in confusion.

"Again?" he asks.

"Yes, again, you have to take it a few times a day for it to work, remember?" Regina tells him, rubbing her nose against Roland's and then kissing the tip of it, smiling down at the boy when he kisses hers in turn, something Robin is sure soothes Regina as much as it does him, because Roland hadn't even been able to respond to their special best friend greeting last night.

"Okay," Roland says simply, so trusting and sweet, and Regina instantly gets out of the bed to go grab the bottle of Children's Tylenol that Ashley left in the bedside table yesterday. Robin stays with his son, helping him sit up against the pillows, the blankets covering his lap.

"I think your fever's down," Regina says when she touches his forehead after giving him the Tylenol, asking "do you feel better?" as he gulps down water to pass the bitter aftertaste of the medicine.

"A little," Roland nods, staying perfectly still while Robin introduces the tip of the thermometer in his ear and clicks the button.

 _100.7°F_

Robin rolls his eyes. Bloody US units.

"You know, since you're president and all, maybe you should consider finally converting the country to the metric system?" he asks, making Regina giggle as she shakes her head moves closer, clicking the button on the side of the device to change the measurement unit.

 _38.1°C_

Ah, much better, Robin thinks. The fever is not completely gone, but it's a welcome change from the 39-40°C Roland had been dealing with the day before.

"Your fever is definitely down," he informs his son, much to the boy's (and Regina's) delight.

"I think that means we can move you back to your room tonight, would you like that?" she sounds so relieved, and Roland nods in answer, frowning still.

"What's wrong?" she asks, brow furrowed in worry.

"You were crying, when I had the bad dream yesterday," Roland ventures, his eyes big and loving as he stares at her.

"Oh, um… I'm okay now, it doesn't matter."

"But you were sad," he insists, quoting words she always says to him when he adds, "I'm your best friend, you have to tell me when something's wrong so I can help."

Robin smiles sadly at her from behind his son, nods his approval when he sees apprehension flicker in her eyes. She doesn't want to keep more things from Roland, and he can respect that, knows she'll have enough tact to tell him without alarming him.

"Okay, well," she sighs, "you see, Roland, I… someone's been sending me scary letters."

"Who?" he asks, eyes widening.

"We don't know yet, but they've been saying some really mean things to me."

"Like a bully?"

"Yes, like a bully."

"Is it because you're the queen?" he asks curiously.

"Something like that," she confesses with a small smile. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, I didn't want you to worry."

"It's okay," he says, ever so accepting of her, "Daddy won't let them do anything to you."

Robin smiles at that, finds Regina's eyes with his own and sees the gratitude there, the love she has for him, for them both.

"I know, sweetheart, I guess I just got scared," she shrugs, grinning at him.

Her words trigger something in Roland, and he thinks hard, bottom lip jutting out in concentration. Robin can almost see the proverbial light bulb go off when an idea hits him, his eyes so wide it's comical.

"Daddy, can we go with Regina to the houses today?" he asks in an excited gasp.

"Houses?"

"Yeah! The ones that Ashley says they're green but they're not."

"Oh, _those_ houses," Robin says, amused at his son's refusal to just call them by their proper name. "I don't know, Roland, it's still a little chilly outside–"

"Pleeaasssee, Daddy?!" he begs, "It's important!"

Well, if it's important...

"Tell you what, let's wait for Dr. Whale to come check on you, and then if he says it's okay, we can go."

"Yes!" his boy exclaims, making Regina laugh lightly as she bends close to him.

"Now, how about some waffles for breakfast?" she stage-whispers, and Roland cheerfully nods his approval.

It's sunny outside, despite the wind still being a tad too cold to be fully spring, but it's a nice day, warm rays bathing the gardens. Roland is wrapped in a thick cable-knit sweater, with gloves, hat and scarf helping to keep the chill at bay. He's flushed and his breathing is shallow, his body still a little weak, but he's too enthusiastic about their outing to care, walking ahead of his father and Regina as they make their way to the greenhouses. Ruby is with them, helping them keep the semblance of a professional environment for whoever might be watching them. It's a step Robin hates to take, because keeping appearances has never been something he's fond of, but Ruby is a good sport, gives them some room and walks ahead with Roland, listening intently to his ramblings, though neither Robin nor Regina can hear them.

He probably should've brought Ashley –she's the boy's nanny after all–, but Ruby knows about their relationship, so he'd requested her company instead (he's almost certain Ashley is aware of them as well, considering all the knowing looks and amused smiles he gets from her, but she's never said a word, so Robin figures it's best not to ask, lest he accidentally reveal something he shouldn't). The young brunette had been more than happy to join their little field trip, and Roland had beamed when he'd found her waiting for them by the door to the gardens.

Having a buffer who is clued into what he and Regina are to each other makes Robin feel a bit freer in his affections with her, doesn't worry too much when his hand brushes hers, or when she walks so close to him he can feel the warmth of her body, and right now those tiny physical reassurances are everything to him, and exactly the reason he'd preferred Ruby to Ashley for this particular outing.

Roland had eagerly informed them they were headed to Greenhouse A, the biggest one in the White House gardens (Robin is more fond of Greenhouse B himself, having spent quite the romantic evening there with Regina, when they'd made up from that horrible fight by kissing and flirting under the stars). When they reach it, Ruby hangs back, prompting Robin to ask, "Aren't you coming in?" as he moves to stand closer to Regina, now that they're away enough from the residence to be out of sight.

"I've already settled it with Roland, I'm to stay here and guard the door," is Ruby's answer, and Robin frowns. He's about to call out for Roland, to scold him for being so impolite as to order their friend to stay outside, but she shakes her head again to stop him, and his son goes on inside to wait for the adults.

"Really, it's fine," Ruby insists with a laugh, "he told me all about his plan, and I now have the very important job of keeping watch."

"But-"

"Look, Robin," she says softly, making sure Roland doesn't hear them from where he stands just behind the open door, "I don't know what's going on, but I do know that it's bad. You've both been nothing but somber lately, and I highly doubt it has anything to do with the Correspondent's Dinner being moved to next week."

Robin sighs, considering for a moment if they should tell her, but then Regina stands up a little straighter, a little more rigid, a subtle change, but one he notices nonetheless, and he knows right away she's not comfortable with telling Ruby yet, so he swallows the words.

"I'm not asking you to tell me anything," she says, noticing his trepidation, "I'm just asking you to let me help. All that kid wants is to cheer you up, so go on, take a break, be a family for a few minutes, you need it. I'll make sure no one disturbs you."

When she finishes, she directs a supportive smile at Regina, who in turn gives a grateful one of her own, her whispered _thank you_ echoing in the wind as Robin sighs in defeat and walks inside, leaving Ruby just outside to watch out for intruders.

When they enter the greenhouse, their world explodes in color. Flowers are blossoming in every single plant and bush, water trickling from the fountain and into the pond that's overcrowded with beautiful water lilies, and the sound of the tiny stream as it runs makes Robin feel at peace, has him taking a deep breath that is accompanied by the sweet smell of the pretty blooms around them, his eyes finding his son as he takes Regina's hand in his tiny one and leads her around the space, whispering a frustrated _hurry, Daddy!_ that has him chuckling as he follows.

There's a somewhat hidden corner behind the fountain, one that looks homier somehow, a spindly arch of pine branches and ivy marking the entrance to a small area Roland informs them is his fairy garden.

"Fairy garden?" Regina asks, curious.

"Yeah! Daddy said there must be fairies here, because the plants are always pretty and green even in the winter, but the fairies are shy, so me and Ashley-"

"Ashley and I," Robin interrupts, and Roland takes a breath to correct himself.

"Ashley and _I_ ," he says slowly, waiting for his father to nod his approval before he continues, "started coming here every day to help Mr. Marco with the plants, so that the fairies would know me and wouldn't be shy with me."

"Ah, I see," Regina says with a smile, "and have they showed themselves to you already?"

"Not yet," Roland replies, disappointment coloring his features for a moment, "but Ashley said maybe they get lost trying to find me because this place is so big, so we made this smaller garden for the fairies to come and play."

"Well, it's beautiful. But, honey, why did we have to come _today_? You're sick, you could've stayed in bed and shown me after you got better."

Roland shakes his head vehemently, pulling on Regina's hand to bring her further into this garden-within-a-garden he and Ashley have created while Robin hangs back to watch them.

"You were scared, and Ashley says the fairies have good magic that protects us, even if we can't see them, so now that you're here, they'll protect you with their magic just like they protect me and you won't have to be scared anymore!"

He looks so proud of himself for thinking of this solution, ecstatic that he can help, and Robin feels his eyes prickle with tears that he has to blink back as he stares up at the glass ceiling, thanking Marian for what feels like the billionth time, for giving him a child with such a beautiful soul.

"Regina why are you crying?" Roland's tiny voice asks, and Robin looks down at his son to find his lower lip trembling as Regina sinks to her knees and tries to calm the sobs wracking her. He rushes to her side, his own knees hitting the grassy floor as he wraps his arms around her and holds her so tight he thinks he may be hurting her, but she squeezes back just as hard, breathes in and out slowly while Roland just stands there and looks at the scene before him with wet eyes.

"These are happy tears," Regina finally manages to say, her voice shaky as she moves away from Robin and cradles his son's cheek in her hand, smiling all the while. "You're the most wonderful best friend in the whole wide world, Roland. Thank you."

The boy then beams at her, tears forgotten as he wraps his tiny arms around her neck and kisses the tip of her nose, telling her he'll be right back, he has to tell Ruby the plan worked.

In that moment that they're alone, Robin helps Regina to her feet and holds her face with his hand, his thumb rubbing over her cheek as the rest of his fingers settle in her hair, foreheads touching while he looks at her. Her features are almost blurry because she's so close, but he stares all the same, entranced by the tiny smile that pulls at her lips, a couple of stray tears falling when she closes her eyes.

"We'll get through this," she says, not a question but a statement, and Robin's nose brushes against hers when he nods in response, landing a chaste kiss on her lips and breathing in her sweet lavender scent. They hold each other, only parting when they hear the door opening again and see Roland bounding in with Ruby in tow, but while the child is too distracted to notice their hasty disentanglement, they're not fast enough for the spunky adult, who smirks and throws a wink in their direction as she kneels before Roland, who has now decided to anoint her with the fairy magic as well, _for doing a good job keeping watch_ , he tells her, and they all laugh lightly together.

* * *

"What happens when the queen of England is in danger?" Regina asks in a curious whisper later that night, after Roland's been tucked in back in his room, following a hearty bowl of chicken soup for dinner and a very dynamic bedtime tale, complete with Robin doing fun voices for the characters.

He and Regina have sated their thirst for each other, and are now snuggled up in her bed for a few stolen minutes before he has to go back and stand guard by her door, like he said he would. She's on her side against him, naked and spent, soft sheets covering her up to her chest and tucked loosely under her armpits as he lies next to her, the same sheets draped haphazardly over his stomach. His arm is around her shoulders, her head nestled against his chest, and her free hand is absentmindedly playing with his, weaving fingers together, caressing slowly and lovingly as she speaks.

"Hmm?" Robin asks lazily, a little confused by her question.

"You know, when she's threatened, like if there's a war coming, or a rebellion against the monarchy breaks out, or Voldemort comes back from the dead, or something."

"Well, you see," he starts, chuckling a bit at the outrageous scenarios she's posited to him, "there's this big, shiny red button with a crown sticker on it at Headquarters, so whenever such dangerous threats arise, we push the button, and instantly every agent and police officer in London gets in their car and rallies to the queen's aid."

"They do, huh?" she asks with a kiss against his chest.

"Mhmm, you should see the ruckus when one of the queen's Corgis goes missing… absolute madness," he continues, loving the light giggle that bubbles out of her.

"So you all abandon your tea and crumpets just like that and go help the queen find her lost dog?"

"Oh no," Robin says gravely, the hand around her shoulders shifting slightly so he can draw random patterns on the skin of her arm, "we never abandon our tea and crumpets. We take those with us in the car, the queen would expect nothing less."

"Ah, of course, my mistake," Regina replies, going silent for a moment, and then he feels her laughing quietly against him when she buries her face in his chest, her mirth jostling them both.

"What is it?" he asks.

"I keep picturing you in one of those tiny police cars, just rabidly driving around London chasing a dog while drinking tea out of a to-go cup, with your pinkie in the air," she says in between bouts of giggles.

"That's preposterous, no self-respecting Brit would ever drink tea from a to-go cup. In fact, I'm sure it'd be considered treason."

"You're American, though."

"An acquired status," he reminds her, "I was born and raised in good olde England, and I would not dare drink tea from a paper cup."

"China teacup, then?" she asks, her eyes bright as she looks up at him, and he nods solemnly, prolonging her amusement.

"With a delicate pink flower pattern and a tiny little handle," he prompts, beaming at the way she outright snorts and covers her mouth with her hand in slight embarrassment, but it does nothing to stop her chortling.

"Stop," she wheezes, laughing almost hysterically against him.

"And a little saucer to match, so we have somewhere to put our crumpets while we loudly, but very politely, call out for that blasted Corgi until we find it," he adds, ignoring her request, and now he's cracking up as well, the picture he's just painted too funny to keep the guffaws at bay.

It takes a few seconds for the laughter to die down, and when it does, they sigh contentedly against each other. Her head rises after a bit, chocolate brown eyes staring down at him, and for a moment he thinks that this is it, that she'll finally say it, _finally_ tell him she loves him… and then has to tramp down his disappointment when she doesn't.

"Thank you," she tells him instead, just as she settles back down against him, and Robin says nothing, only turns his head and kisses her brow as she shifts more comfortably into his embrace, her breathing deep and relaxed.

He chances a glance at the clock a little while later, only to groan when he sees that it's nearing midnight already. Emma and John should be passing by the door on their night patrol soon.

"I should head back out there, before someone notices I'm gone," he tells her, his voice low so as not to disturb the peace in the room. Regina sighs sadly, dots a line of kisses on his chest and loosens her grip on him, allowing him to get up, watching as he pulls on his clothes. When he goes to shrug on his shirt, however, she stops him, reaches out and pulls the garment away from his grasp, sitting up on the bed and putting it on before she sinks back down into the covers.

"I'm keeping this," she declares, her eyes closed and mouth pulled up in a smile.

He has to take the secret passageway to his room anyway (he can't possibly risk any of the security cameras in the hall catching him going out the door of the presidential suite in the middle of the night), has to fix his disheveled state and walk back to the hallway just outside, so that his fellow agents don't suspect he's been inside the room, so he lets Regina win this time.

"As you wish, my love," he concedes, taking in the sight of her wrapped up in his white button-down (or drowned in it, more like, with the hem reaching past her thighs and the sleeves so long that her hands barely peek out from under them), and smiling as he bends down to buss her lips gently, the feeling of her all warm and inviting making it that much more difficult for him to part from this little nest of cozy blankets and smooth skin.

* * *

He makes it back to the door of the suite wearing a new shirt from his closet, arrives just in time to see his colleagues rounding the corner, and he greets them coolly, gives some rubbish excuse about coming back from a bathroom break, and makes small talk for a good five minutes before they continue on their patrol.

Robin stays at his post for the remainder of the night, guarding the sleep of the lovely woman inside.


	10. Chapter 10

_We're getting close to the end! Just three chapters and a possible epilogue left after this!_

 _For a better visual of the evening gown Regina wears in this, you can Google the Vera Wang gown that Michelle Obama wore to a China state dinner last September, and then picture it in navy instead of black._

* * *

"No."

"Agent Locksley," Ursula warns.

"Absolutely not," he reiterates, his tone bordering on angry as he chances a look at Regina.

They're all in the oval office, Robin, Mal and David sitting on one of the couches, seething at Gold, Ingrid and Ursula, who sit on the other. Regina is standing in the middle of the small living area, tall heels digging into the giant depiction of the Great Seal on the carpet, her face set in a scowl as she listens to them argue about her safety.

Robin cannot understand why, but it seems the press secretary and Regina's chief of staff (and Ingrid too, for that matter) have lost every shred of common sense they possessed, the news he and Mal have delivered having done nothing to deter them from urging Regina to attend a public event tomorrow night.

The White House Correspondents' Dinner is an annual gathering held at the Washington Hilton, usually on the last Saturday of April. It's one of the biggest, most popular affairs and a world-famous D.C. staple, an elegant evening where the President and Vice President of the United States dine with those they usually see from the other side of a podium in the press room. Previous Chiefs of State and members of the cabinet have even been known to perform fun, self-mocking monologues for the correspondents in attendance, all in an over-the-top attempt to honor and celebrate the relationship between the White House and the media, horrible as though it might be at times.

This year, the event had to be moved to early May (tomorrow, May 10th to be exact), since the whole ordeal with Gaston happened on the week the dinner was supposed to take place, and both the Correspondents' Association and the White House were too busy to even consider such a high-profile engagement.

Regina and David are expected to attend, and fun, self-deprecating speeches have already been crafted by a team of comedic writers regularly employed by the likes of Stephen Colbert and Jon Stewart. Ruby has picked out a dress for Regina to wear (a blue one, per Roland's official request), hair stylists and makeup artists have been called in, limos have been arranged, and all of Washington is abuzz with excitement and anticipation. Robin detests all of it, enraged as he is right now by the ludicrous idea that Regina should still attend the shindig when there's a killer on the loose.

He and Mal had filled the others in on what's been going on, and David had immediately agreed that Regina should not show up at any events outside the White House, should stay here where she is safe and well looked after. Gold had countered that the Secret Service should simply do their job and protect her while she's out, that the event is at a grand hotel in the middle of the city and is the most anticipated night in D.C. society, that surely no criminal would be daft enough to try anything there where he can so easily be seen and caught.

"Regina, you can't possibly think this is a good idea," David intervenes, looking towards her. She remains quiet, standing between them, arms crossed over her shoulders.

"I don't really see how we can cancel so last minute, not without them suspecting that something's wrong," she tells him sincerely.

"All due respect, ma'am, but risking your safety over an event that is of no real political or economic consequence is madness, going to this thing is dangerous," Robin insists, unable to stop the desperation from lacing his tone as his eyes find hers and he silently _begs_ her to listen, to stay here where he can protect her best.

"You're the President of the United States, dear, you can fucking cancel if you want to cancel," Mal says in a bored tone.

"You've been out of the public eye since the Gaston ordeal, and that was a great press conference, but that's not going to gain you enough popularity to sail through the next few years, you need to let the people see you."

"So you're going to risk her safety simply because you want people to see her make fun of herself? This lunatic could show up at any moment!" Robin barks back.

"Yes, and whose fault is that, Agent Locksley?" Ursula speaks up then, raising a skeptical eyebrow at him as she adds, "this threat should've been neutralized by now."

"He has help from the inside, that's why we brought Agent Feuer in, she's helping us determine the accomplice, I told you this ten minutes ago, but you were too busy supporting this barmy idea to listen."

"I do not appreciate your tone, Agent," Ursula warns.

"I'm telling you you're risking the life of your president, and all you can say is that _you don't like my tone_?!"

"Enough!" Regina interrupts, exasperated.

"I need a moment to think this through," she informs them, turning to her assistant, "Ingrid, please go make sure everything is ready for my lunch with the Ambassador of Poland. Agent Feuer, Agent Locksley, Mr. Gold, I'm going to need you to wait outside for a few minutes while I talk to Ursula and David."

"Yes, ma'am," they reply, and Robin shuffles his way out the door after Mal, pausing before exiting to throw a look at Regina and mouth a silent _Please_ , but he doesn't get to see her response, because Gold is suddenly there, following him out of the room and closing the door behind them.

He watches Mal pace back and forth for a few seconds, trying to rein in her anxiety, and then, when it's clear she can't take the charged silence anymore, she announces that she's going up to the roof to have a cigarette and clear her head, asking him to please let her know what Regina decides. He agrees with a nod of his head, and then watches her walk away, wrapped in the same cloud of frustration he can feel looming over him.

Robin can feel his anger flare when he sets his sight on Gold, his blood boiling at the mere sight of the man beside him. He grits his teeth so as not to say anything, trying desperately to remain professional, but then Gold throws a smug smile his way, and he loses it.

"How _dare_ you suggest she show up at that dinner after everything we told you?!"

"If she's to run and hide after every death threat, Agent Locksley, then she may as well just stay locked up here for the rest of her term." Gold's reply is condescending, turns offhanded as he adds, "President King did public appearances while in similar danger and nothing ever happened, I'm sure President Mills will be fine, but she must keep to her schedule, she has a reputation to maintain."

"This isn't about your bloody appearances or her reputation, it's about her life!"

"Such a dignified, eloquent and peaceful way to argue, you have," Gold remarks sarcastically.

"Mock me all you want, you self-serving scum," he fires back, angrier still, "but you know I'm right. You're willing to put the president in danger for a few seconds of airtime, many have gone to jail for less."

"You forget your _place_ , Agent Locksley," the man warns, his tone lowering to something with a bit more bite.

"And you, Mr. Gold, forget that you're only here on a technicality," Robin presses on. "The only reason you're still Press Secretary is because the person set to take over your job was fired by President Mills before she made it to the White House."

"Ah, yes, and what happened there, exactly?" Gold asks with a sneer. "What made her fire Sidney Glass?"

"That's none of your business," Robin spits, fists clenching at the mention of the man's name.

"On the contrary, Agent Locksley, I think it is."

"Stay out of it, Gold, I mean it. And she's not going."

The door opens behind them just then, Ursula poking her head out and asking them back inside, where Regina awaits sitting behind her desk, looking cool and collected as she appraises them both before she informs them of her decision.

"I'm going to the Correspondents' Dinner," she says firmly, and Robin immediately begins to recite the many reasons why that's a bad idea, the most important one being she could be _hurt_ , dammit.

"You can secure the perimeter for the two hours I'll be in there, can you not?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then I really don't see why I should have to stay behind. I don't want to cancel this, Agent Locksley, I'm the President, I do not want to cower under threats that might be empty to begin with."

"Ma'am, we've yet to pinpoint a culprit, and we know someone on the inside is helping him, it would really be best if you stay here, where we can keep a proper eye on you."

"People are expecting me there, I do not wish to disappoint them," she insists, her eyes fervent on his, pleading, asking him to understand.

Robin sighs defeatedly, knowing there's no way he'll convince her to skip that dinner.

"Very well, ma'am," he tells her, "we'll do as you wish."

* * *

 **RM:** _Are you going to stay out there all night?_

Her text reaches him a little before midnight, while he's standing guard outside her room. He's curt and brief in his reply.

 **RL:** _It's my job._

She sends nothing back, and he starts feeling guilty for being so harsh, types a quick message to explain himself.

 **RL:** _I need time to digest everything._

 **RM** **:** _I know. But you understand why I'm going?_

 **RL:** _I understand. Doesn't mean I have to like it._

 **RM:** _Babe, I have to do this._

 **RL:** _I know._

She stays quiet for a while, and Robin is about to pocket his phone when it chirps with a new message.

 **RM:** _You'll be there with me, right?_

He grins slightly at that, at how timid she seems, and words his answer in a way that will reassure her.

 **RL:** _Not even a cyclone could keep me away._

 **RM:** _If this phone had proper emojis, I'd be sending you kisses right about now._

 **RL:** _You'll just have to give me real ones tomorrow. Rest well, my love._

 **RM:** _Goodnight, Robin._

Morning finds him exhausted and still at Regina's door, Roland bounding towards him from down the hall with a muffled shout of "Daddy!" that serves to raise his spirits.

"There's my boy!" he greets, picking him up and planting a smooch on his cheek, "How are you feeling?"

He's been doing considerably well after his fever broke last week. The exposure to the cold air during their little trip to the greenhouses, brief as it was, hadn't helped much, and his temperature had spiked up again (though thankfully not as high), but after two days of proper bed rest, antibiotics, and Chef Lucas's delicious soups, Roland had made a full recovery and is now back to his cheerful, active self. Robin still worries, though, wants to make sure there's nothing lingering of the virus.

"I'm fine," the boy replies, his tone denoting how silly he thinks his father's being, asking him that every time he sees him, but Robin won't be deterred by his five-year-old's exasperation.

"No headaches or anything? Did Ashley take your temperature last night before bed? And this morning?"

"Yes, daddy, she says I'm okay, that I'm strong like you," Roland replies, giggling when Robin tickles his belly.

"Alright, alright," he finally tells his son, "let's go get us some breakfast, then."

* * *

His day is heavy, weighed down by the knowledge that in a few hours, Regina will willingly expose herself to whoever's stalking her every move with the intention of killing her. He understands, knows this is something she can't get away from, and that she has to cultivate the trust of the press and the people if she's to remain in office for the next three and a half years, but it still annoys him that this is happening, that they have yet to figure out who is actually feeding the killer the information to hack into their servers and harass Regina. There haven't been any new emails in over four days, but that doesn't necessarily mean it's over, whoever this person is, he's out there, biding his time before he attacks, and it makes Robin's blood boil that he hasn't found the bastard yet.

Unbelievably enough, he's thankful for Mal, for how angry she is at Regina's decision, and her lack of will to hide it. She spews harsh words at Gold and Ingrid, levels Ursula with a death stare when they walk past each other in the halls, and outright tells Regina she's being ridiculous in doing this, but the President in her comes out, and she remains strong, tells Mal she's doing this whether she likes it or not.

A thorough and trustworthy security team is assembled, small but effective, enough to keep an eye on the situation and not let anything or anyone suspicious get through to that dinner, but Robin is nervous nonetheless, Mal too, both of them fidgety as they ride in the car on their way to the Hilton. Regina's car follows theirs, flanked by police in motorcycles and another car full of Secret Service Agents just behind, with Emma and John as team leaders.

He goes in and starts putting everything in order, surveying the perimeter and making sure it's safe for Regina to come through. He hasn't seen her today, both of them too busy with their own preparations for the event to have time to themselves, but he gets a look at her when she finally enters, after walking the small steps to the main gate, while the paparazzi click away and blind everyone with their flashes.

She looks stunning (not that he's surprised), clad in a long navy gown that hugs her curves all the way down to just above her knees, where a ruffled skirt billows out to the floor. The neckline is low across her chest, exposing her collarbone and shoulders, with a tantalizing V that splits the straight line in the middle to give a glimpse of yet more of her beautiful skin. Her hair is swept to one side, gentle waves cascading along her left shoulder, and she looks wary, a little jumpy, but settles a bit when she finally sees him, a tender smile on her face as she makes her way to her table, David at her heels, sitting next to her with his wife.

Mal is walking around, studying the audience, so when the event finally starts, it is Robin who gets to walk Regina backstage, marveling at the view of her back, bare and enticing thanks to the low cut of her dress.

There's a moment, while they're waiting for the introductory speeches, where they're completely alone behind the curtain, covered in near darkness as all the lights have moved to focus on the crowd, and only one tiny bulb is left on where they are, dull enough in its gleam that it barely illuminates their features. Robin decides to take advantage of their newfound solitude, one finger ghosting over her shoulder as it moves down, until it hits the cap sleeve that wraps around her arm, and drags that down a little bit as well, positioning himself right in front of her, close enough for a whisper to be heard despite the noisy atmosphere on the other side of the stage.

"What are you doing?" she asks, but she's leaning into the touch, her arm seeking proper contact instead of the feather light passes of his fingers over her skin.

"You owe me kisses, Madam President," he answers, chancing a glance to either side of them (an action borne out of instinct even though he knows they're alone), and then he leans in and buries his nose in her neck, letting her scent wash over him as his hands settle on her waist and he lets out a husky _You look amazing_ into her shoulder.

"Figured if you were going to be miserable tonight, the least I could do was make sure the view was worth it," Regina teases back, and he grins, moving up and caressing the bridge of her nose with the tip of his own. Her mouth is so close, so tempting.

"You're always worth it, Regina," he clarifies, pulling back a bit to look into her eyes, needing her to see how much he means that. She smiles fondly at him, and then it's she who shifts closer, meets his lips with hers in a kiss that warms him from head to toe, her tongue peeking out to lick at his upper lip, and he almost growls, because she knows how crazy it makes him when she does that.

"You're playing with fire, my love," he says seductively against her mouth.

"Shh," she admonishes, "we have two minutes before they call me up on stage, I suggest you use them wisely."

There are no cameras backstage, and the media is situated at the front of the room, listening to the comedian now speaking from the podium, people cheering as he mocks the cabinet and makes some joke or other at David's expense, and the white noise of the audience's laughter is loud enough to cover the moan that bubbles out of Regina when Robin crashes their mouths together again, hands venturing from her waist to her rear, kneading and groping as he brings her closer.

"Your arse is a sin in this dress," he tells her gruffly, sinking his teeth into her bottom lip and pulling it into his mouth again, loving the way she whimpers in return and wraps her arms around his neck, pressing their bodies flush against each other.

"I know," she says, breathless but smug as she turns around to give him ample view of it and, evil seductress that she is, grins when he grunts and grabs her around the waist, smacking her back against his chest and losing himself in the skin exposed by her sideswept hair.

"That feels good," she rasps, rolling her hips back and forth, rubbing against him as he kisses and kisses, devouring her neck with little licks and sucks and grazes of teeth.

"You're stunning," he tells her, turning her back around and letting her press him against the wall behind him, groaning when she assaults his jaw, bites his earlobe, and then kisses all the way down his throat and back up to his chin, nipping there as she brings her hands inside his jacket and rakes her nails up and down his sides over his shirt, making him shiver pleasantly.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is an honor for me to be here tonight, and an even greater honor to introduce to you a woman with the most resilient of hearts, someone who strives to make our country great..."

David's voice is suddenly on the speakers, announcing Regina's entrance, and they instantly tear themselves away from each other, laughing quietly as Robin helps her fix her hair and offers his handkerchief, so she can clean the faint bits of lipstick still marring her skin after he kissed it all off. Regina's fingers dip into her cleavage when she's done wiping the smudges away, taking out a tiny tube of the same nude shade and reapplying it to her lips, cheekily pocketing the lipstick in his trousers afterwards and stepping back, turning this way and that for him to give her a final look.

"Okay?" she asks, wanting to make sure no evidence of what's just happened is visible to the masses. Robin can't see much with what little light they have, but the muted glow is enough for him to check her face and hair, and his hand darts out to her jaw, thumb wiping off one last smudge she didn't get with his handkerchief. She still looks a little flushed, but nothing that can be traced back to this little stint of indecorous activities.

"Perfect," he says, smirking at her, still riding the thrill of having snogged her _here_ , where the eyes of the world are on her and they could've gotten caught at any moment.

"Don't be smug," she says, clearly seeing his self-satisfied smile for what it is, but she's smiling too, a coy, yet naughty little thing that tells him she liked this just as much as he did.

"...my friend, and our Commander in Chief, President Regina Mills!"

It's the end of David's short speech, and Regina's queue to step out to greet her audience, so with a final once-over, Robin gives her a thumbs up and watches her step through the small door and onto the stage, following just behind her and positioning himself to the side, with Mal covering the audience and Emma and John flanking the sides of the venue, a few other agents still by the entrance and a larger detail just outside, waiting for this thing to be over so they can take their President back to the safety of her residence.

The entire thing passes by faster than Robin would have thought. Regina gives a wonderful speech, is applauded by media and cabinet members alike, and politely greets all those who stop by her table, Gold at her side to ensure that her comments are appropriate and well received. There's an elegant meal made of gourmet dishes with names Robin can't pronounce, expensive wine accompanying the scrumptious offerings, and rich desserts that look like works of art, all of which adds to the grandeur of the event. There's a string quartet in one corner, playing classic, cheerful tunes, and the music is uplifting enough to keep the attendees in a good mood, the atmosphere light and easy.

Things seem to mellow out throughout the evening, formalities and politics discussions traded for a more casual approach and lighter conversation topics, and in a couple of hours they're setting everything in place to head back to the White House, the cars already waiting outside.

That's when everything goes horribly wrong.

He doesn't notice the danger at first, carries on with his duties the way he's supposed to and surveys the perimeter as soon as he steps outside, while Mal and John make way through the throng of spectators and paparazzi so that Regina can walk to the car. But then he spots a face in the crowd, a young man that he recognizes from a long time ago, the .35 millimeter he's aiming at Regina denoting his intentions.

Robin moves fast, but it feels sluggish now that time seems to have stood still.

Everything happens in slow motion, the screams of the crowd turning into some distorted, dull murmur, and it mixes eerily with the thunderous sound of the gunshot, fired by the suspect just as Robin jumps in front of Regina, shielding her from impact. He lands hard on the floor, his head hitting the asphalt with a nasty cracking sound.

He doesn't feel hurt, doesn't even register the blood until he sees it on Regina's hands when she crouches down in front of him.

"Mal, get her out of here!" he shouts with what strength he still has, though Mal is trying to wrestle Regina away from him before he even utters the words. All of a sudden time picks up speed again, accelerates harshly, and it's chaos. Police sirens are going off, lights flashing while panicked bystanders all run away in fear, Robin's fellow agents shouting orders at them and each other, trying to keep the unnerved crowd in check while they find the shooter.

Regina is still there, sobbing as she presses her hand to his wound, screaming at Mal, who's still trying fruitlessly to move her and get her to safety.

"No, you listen to me!" Robin hears her bark at the Dragon, "I am not leaving him!"

"Regina," he chokes, but the adrenaline has left him, and his voice is now too low to overcome the disaster that continues to unfold around them, the sirens getting louder as ambulances and police patrols get closer. He attempts to touch her instead, to reassure her that he'll be fine and insist that she get back to the residence, but then he finally registers the pain, sharp needles of it piercing through his arm when he tries to raise it.

"Dammit just grab her and go! Now!" Mal snaps at someone, and then Regina is fiercely fighting the pair of hands that drag her away, John's face coming into view as he mumbles an apology, locks his grip around her and practically shoves her into the car despite her protests. Good, she'll be safe now, Robin assures himself before finally succumbing to the pain and exhaustion.

An image of her face is the last thing his mind conjures before darkness takes over.

* * *

The lights are on, he can feel their glare even through closed eyelids, and Robin braces himself for the pain, eyes opening just an inch so as not to take it in all at once.

His arm is heavily bandaged, so is the side of his head, which is pounding still from the blow it took against the pavement earlier. It takes him a few minutes to understand his surroundings, still groggy from whatever meds they gave him. He's back at the White House, in the same bed of the medical wing his son had been in barely a week ago. Someone's changed him out of his suit, his trousers and blood-soaked shirt discarded in favor of a thin, papery hospital gown that rustles loudly when he moves.

The lamps make him wince despite his efforts to dim their brightness, and he blinks slowly, groaning at the sharp pain that explodes in pinpricks across his head.

"Took you long enough," a bored voice says from beside him, and he turns to find Mal there, sitting on the chair next to his bed and looking at him like he's an idiot.

 _What the bloody hell happened?_ he wants to ask, even though he knows the gist of it, he was there, after all, but he wasn't conscious for the aftermath, and he _needs_ to know. Mal, it seems, can predict his question even though his throat is too scratchy to voice it.

"GSW to the upper arm," she informs him promptly, "leave it to you to get shot right on an area not protected by your vest." She rolls her eyes, shaking her head at him, but her exasperation doesn't faze him, and he waits for more details. Mal sighs at his expectant stare, and continues.

"The bullet destroyed some tissue and damaged an artery, you lost a lot of blood, which is why you passed out, but they patched you up and put you on a chopper. You've been out the whole time."

"How long...?" he rasps.

"Roughly twenty-four hours since you were brought back here."

A day. Not as bad as he thought, then. Good.

"What you did was stupid," Mal tells him then, but her tone lacks the judgment that usually colors it when she speaks to him. "But you saved her. Everyone's talking about it, there wasn't a lot of video footage since everyone ran off in a panic, but it hasn't stopped the press, they're having a field day harassing witnesses for details on your dashing rescue. You're a hero, Locksley."

"I didn't do it to be a hero."

"I know. You did it because you care," The Dragon acknowledges, "it's also the reason why I didn't give you any grief when I joined the team. I know you just want to keep her safe."

"How is she?" he asks then.

"Worried sick about you."

"But you told her I'm fine?" he urges, and Mal scoffs at him.

"Like that makes any difference. She's been pacing her office like a madwoman, keeps asking when she can come see you. If she wasn't taking care of your son, I'm pretty sure she'd be here, shoving me out the door."

"Roland knows I was hurt?"

"Well it's not like we could keep this from him, could we? The shooting was all over the news and his father didn't come home, he figured it out. Honestly, he's five, not an idiot."

"Is he alright?" Robin asks, ignoring her rude remarks.

"He didn't take it very well," Mal says then, her voice softer than before. "It wasn't until Regina told him you were okay that he stopped crying," she explains, and Robin feels like shit.

He remembers what it felt like with Marian, the torture of not knowing what was happening, not getting clear information about her status until it was too late, and he hates himself for putting his son through similar pain.

"Don't do that," Mal interrupts when he shakes his head at himself, "you were doing your job, and you're fine. Your kid knows that, Regina knows that, and now we have the shooter in custody, so this won't happen again."

"He's not the one we should be worried about," Robin tells her then, remembering.

"Excuse me? He tried to kill the President of the United States!" she replies, baffled.

"Yes, and by all means, throw him in jail for it as soon as possible, but he's not the one orchestrating all this."

Robin sees the look of comprehension dawn on her face as she states, "You know him."

"Not exactly, but I know who he works for. Sidney Glass."

Her eyes widen at that, disbelieving at first. "Are you sure?" she asks, perplexed.

"Yes, I'm sure. This man you caught, his name is Percival, he used to be part of Sidney's security detail back in Maine before Regina fired him. I'll bet you anything that lowlife bribed or blackmailed him into doing this."

"I'll let the team know and see what information this guy has on Glass," she says, standing up to leave. Robin watches her go, but she's only taken three steps before she stops, turning to him before reaching the doorframe, looking curiously back at him.

"You're in love with her, aren't you?" she asks then, her voice low.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. You love her."

"That's ludicrous," Robin says vehemently, but Mal only rolls her eyes and walks back to his bed, towering above him as she fixes him with the most accusatory stare and brandishes a familiar looking lipstick in front of his face.

"Paramedics found this in your pocket, and I know it's Regina's because I gave it to her, so don't even try to deny it."

"So?" he asks nonchalantly, "She was going on stage and didn't have anywhere to store it, I offered to-"

"Oh, cut the crap, Locksley. What you did wasn't out of concern or duty, it was out of love. I see the way you two look at one another. The way she ran to you and was so adamant about you being taken care of before she even thought of getting herself to safety. You're lucky everyone mistook that for a show of concern, but I know better." That judgy quality to her voice is back, as if daring him to defy her.

"Don't get me wrong," she adds before he can speak, "I think it's wonderful for Regina to find love again, I really do, but you can't just take bullets for her forever, Locksley."

"I would gladly give my life to protect her," he protests, and The Dragon rolls her eyes again.

"Yes, well, that's very brave of you, but you're not good to her dead," she snaps, exhaling an exasperated breath before she speaks again, and this time her tone is softer.

"She's lost love before, I don't want her to lose it again, so instead of trying to get yourself killed, what we need to do is find out who the hell is helping Glass from within and end this."

"You're right," he concedes, and she nods before making her way to the door again, finally leaving him alone in the room.

* * *

"Daddy?" he hears his son's timid voice a few minutes later, just as he'd been starting to close his eyes to try and sleep. He's wide awake now, a gigantic smile on his face as Roland comes bounding in, Ashley trailing just behind.

"There's my big, strong boy!" he exclaims, offering his good arm for him to climb onto the bed and hug him. Roland is fresh from his shower, and Robin breathes him in, taking comfort in the clean, baby powdery scent of him, with hints of the blackberry fragrance of the shampoo he tends to favor, and finally he's able to relax and let go of his worries. He's safe. He's home.

"I'll give you two a moment," Ashley says then, resting a hand on Robin's good shoulder as she adds a heartfelt, "I'm so glad you're okay."

He nods at her, rests his hand over hers while Roland continues to cry into his chest, and Ashley gives the boy a gentle pat on the back before she makes her way outside, promising to wait however long it takes for father and son to talk.

"Daddy the lady on the TV said a bad guy hurt you with a gun!" his son croaks after his nanny has left, still in tears when he parts from his embrace and sits up on the bed.

"Just a scratch, nothing to worry about," Robin tells him, smiling and gingerly moving the sleeve of his hospital gown up enough for him to see the bandages around his arm and poke at them. The boy does so, curiously peering over the wrapped wound and touching it, sometimes with a little too much force, but Robin does his best not to wince, wanting his son to be reassured that he's okay.

"Regina was crying, and I got scared," he insists.

"I know, Roland, but I'm fine, I promise. No one is ever going to take me away from you," Robin vows, tightening his hold on his son and kissing the top of his head as Roland clings to him with all his might, his sobs finally starting to subside.

The boy falls asleep on his chest in minutes, his fears draining out of him and giving way to his exhaustion, knocking him out and making him snore into his father's neck. Robin doesn't mind, takes a few minutes to just hold his son and feel him alive and breathing against him. He knows the wound wasn't that big a deal, and he'd been wearing a vest under his suit when it all happened, so if the bullet had hit his chest or ribs or stomach in what would've been a deathly blow, he still wouldn't have been in any danger, but the reality of the threat still crushes him, the knowledge that his son could've lost a father weighing heavily on his conscience. He cannot frighten Roland like that ever again. Mal's right, they have to end this.

"I'm gonna take him up to the room," a gentle whisper interrupts his thoughts, and Robin finds Ashley suddenly by his bed, looking down at them. He nods his agreement, and then the young woman hugs him, her voice shaky as she berates, "You're like a dad to me, too, you know? You scared the hell out of me, stop doing that."

"I'll try," he vows with a smile when she lets go, and Ashley smiles back before gathering Roland in her arms and hoisting him up and out of the bed, pressing him against her body and rocking him from one side to the other even though he doesn't wake.

"Get some rest, okay? I'll bring him by with breakfast tomorrow," she tells him, and then disappears out the door, his son still sleeping peacefully.

The discomfort in his arm wakes him in the middle of the night, and upon looking at the clock on his bedside table, he realizes he's been asleep for about six hours. Dawn should be arriving soon.

A broken gasp startles him, and he jerks his head to the side to find Regina there, standing by the entrance of the room. He'd known she was okay, that she hadn't been hurt, but for some reason seeing her there, alive and well, has immeasurable relief flooding through him, and he exhales heavily, hasn't even finished gasping out her name when she's already throwing herself half on top of him on the bed, sobbing into the crook of his neck.

He brings a hand to her head, cradling it to him, kisses her hair and consoles her in low whispers while she continues to weep into the cotton T-shirt he'd changed into after Roland and Ashley left him.

"It's okay, my love," he tells her, and, "I'm fine, it's alright."

She doesn't seem to register his reassurances, however, and only grips him tighter, snuggles even closer, and Robin flinches when the action jostles his bandaged arm and a little stab of pain shoots through it. It's nothing he can't handle, and he tries to tame his body's reaction to it, but Regina notices, pulls back and hovers a hand over the wound.

"Oh god, I'm sorry, does it hurt? Do you need anything?" she rambles, and Robin can only grin at her, his eyes soft as they stare into hers.

"What?" Regina asks, confused.

"Nothing, just... I love when you're concerned about me," he answers as he sits them both up a little straighter, and then takes her lips with his own before she can say anything. The kiss is sweet, nothing too heated or fast, just a deep, loving exchange to ground themselves in each other as they so often do.

She pulls away first, but only so she can shift her body over his and drop a kiss on his wound over the bandages, and then rises to land another on his forehead, her lower lip trembling as she looks him over, and all of a sudden there are tears again, falling heavily down her cheeks as she just looks and looks at him.

"Regina," he tries, but she shakes her head furiously, stops him even as she continues to cry.

"Why the hell did you do that?! You could've died!" she protests.

"I told you I would protect you."

"Not like this, you won't! I won't let you," she fires back.

"Why?"

"Because _I love you_ , you big moron!"

And there it is.

He's... shocked, to say the least. Out of all the times and ways he'd been expecting to hear those three wonderful words from her, this is probably the last scenario Robin would've conjured.

Which makes it even better.

He's beaming in seconds, looking at her with bright eyes and chuckling his happiness, and somewhere in the back of his mind he regrets that there aren't cameras inside the medical wing, he would've liked to have video record of this moment.

"Had I known it would take a bullet for you to finally say those words, I would've jumped in front of a gun a lot sooner," he jokes, trying to get her to laugh and take part in this most joyous of moments, but she's still crying, and he cannot resist the urge to cup her cheek in his hand and bring her in close, peppering kisses all over her face in an attempt to calm her down, his heart soaring with the rippling echo of what's just transpired.

"I love you, too," he chokes out, "more than I can ever say, and I'll do everything I can to keep you safe."

"I never realized it would come to this," she says, her voice breaking, "I can't let you put your life on the line for me. What if this happens again? What if Sidney finds me and you die trying to save me? I cannot let that happen."

"Regina-" he tries, but she cuts him off.

"No, Robin! Promise me you won't do that again," she demands.

"Don't ask me to make a promise I can't keep," he tells her, his voice calm despite her desperation. A fresh wave of tears leaks from her eyes when she hears his answer, and she takes a deep breath and prepares herself to speak.

"Then I guess I'll just have to keep it for you," she informs him as she leaves the bed and stands at the foot of it, facing him.

"Robin Locksley," she starts, speaking in her formal tone of Commander in Chief as she declares, "as President of the United States, I am stripping you from your position as Head of the Secret Service. From now on, you'll be handling Vice President Nolan's security, your title will be given to Agent Swan, and you are hereby ordered to remain within the residence at all times until this threat has been neutralized."

"Wait, what?! No."

"It's my turn to keep you safe now," she explains in a shaky voice.

"Please, don't do this," he pleads, desperate.

"I'm so sorry," she says, backing out of the room in tears.

"Regina, please!" he insists, calling for her a few more times and begging her to reconsider, to stay here with him so they can talk about this...

The click of her heels echoes in the room as she continues to walk away, his desperation growing as he calls after her over and over.

Regina doesn't turn back.


	11. Chapter 11

**_Hehehehe... Enjoy!_**

 ** _*Runs away*_**

* * *

It's been two weeks.

Two whole weeks since he last spoke to Regina, and Robin has never felt more miserable.

David has doubled his security detail, and insisted that Robin remain at his living quarters in the White House during his recovery, citing that thanks to his expanded guard, there's really no need for his new chief of security to pack his belongings, uproot his emotionally scarred son from the one place where he feels safe, and move all the way to Number One Observatory Circle while dealing with an injury, a consideration for which Robin is grateful. Brief as though his time at the presidential residence has been, he already considers it his home, and is glad that he gets to stay a while longer.

He's been back to work (begrudgingly taking over David's security, as ordered) since the ninth day after his surgery, but so far he's been unable to see Regina. She keeps to herself these days, avoids him at all costs, sends Ingrid or Ursula to tell him she's too busy to see him whenever he asks to meet her, barricades herself in the oval and grants him no access. He knows from his endless calling that her phone is off, but he texts her anyway, hoping that she'll turn it on at some point and see the messages he's left her.

 **RL:** _Regina, please. I want us to talk about this._

 **RL:** _Protecting you is my job, and I do it gladly, don't take that away from me._

 **RL:** _I love you._

 **RL:** _Please just talk to me._

 **RL:** _I miss you._

And so it goes on, desperate pleas mixed with reassurances of his feelings for her sent from his phone at least four times a day, but they all go unanswered, and it only frustrates him more.

He's thankful for his son, the one shiny ray of hope in his life at the moment. They've spent a lot more time together since Ashley left on holiday a few days ago. She'd wanted to cancel, to stay here and help, knowing it wouldn't be easy for Robin to deal with his injury and work while simultaneously taking care of Roland full time, but she's had this trip to New York planned with Belle for a month now, and so he'd insisted that she go, that at least one of them should take a break from this entire ordeal and have fun. She'd agreed after much nagging on his part, and he'd held his sad little boy with his good arm as they'd watched her go from the steps of the White House main gate.

Truth be told, he's enjoyed having Roland around on a more permanent basis, likes having his son accompany him to his office after breakfast and color in his little corner of Robin's desk while he works. They have lunch together every day now, and afterwards, his boy disappears up the stairs while Robin goes back to his duties. They've set up David's schedule so that the meetings assigned to his office in the White House are all held in the mornings, leaving the afternoons for appointments outside it, ending the work day with Robin seeing him safely home to the Vice President's residence on 34th Street, along with his security detail, before he makes it back to Pennsylvania Avenue to have dinner and bedtime stories.

He knows Roland spends his afternoons with Regina more often than not lately, and he doesn't mind, loves her all the more for it, in fact.

From the moment she'd first held him, they'd both discovered something they needed in each other. Roland had found a mother to make up for the one he'd lost, and Regina had gained the child that nature hadn't seen fit to give her. A perfect match. He still remembers his son's shaky first steps, how his chubby toddler had walked on wobbly legs from his arms and into hers, how she'd held him and kissed his rosy cheeks and told him how proud she was of him. He remembers his son's first words, a high-pitched _Dada_ and a squeak that later turned into _Gina_ , the Rs still a little hard for him to pronounce back then. Regina had hated the nickname, but would beam whenever the boy called to her and extended his arms for her to pick him up, bounced him on her hip as she made gurgly noises to entertain him, and Robin distinctly recalls how amusing it had been, watching the mighty governor of Maine dissolve into a puddle of giggles as she and Roland made funny faces at each other.

His boy is older now, but his devotion to Regina is the same, and he's happy and energetic when he regales his father with tales of his adventures with her. Over the weekend, they'd spent some time in the gardens, enjoying the warm sunshine while jumping around the sprinklers, and his son had come back to his room with soaked jeans and a gigantic smile. Two days ago, they'd made brownies with Chef Lucas, and Roland had brought him one as a special treat. Last night, they'd watched Lady & the Tramp down in the entertainment room and stuffed themselves with popcorn and mini pretzels...

Robin loves to hear the stories, because they're the only bits of Regina he has these days (he's still a bit miffed about what she did, sure, but most of all he just _misses_ her), and his son's enthusiasm is wonderful to see, but then a voice in his head reminds him that they're making memories together that he's not a part of, and it hurts worse than the wound on his arm.

His heart aches for her so much that he tries to get Mal to tell him something, _anything_ , about how she's doing, what she's up to, how the hunt for Glass is going. He knows they raided his apartment in D.C. and found it empty, that every agent who'd been part of his security detail when he worked for the governor's office has been questioned, but so far no one but Percival seems to have been involved in Sidney's plot.

"When I have new information to disclose, you'll know. In the meantime leave me out of your marital troubles, Locksley, and let me do my fucking job," Mal tells him when he asks yet again for details, and that's that.

* * *

Handling David's security is easy, dull, annoying, and he hates it. Especially today, when he knows Congress is passing Regina's bill to reform the public education system and he can't be there. It's going to be a long day.

Ruby comes into his new office (Emma's former quarters) carrying coffee and a blueberry muffin for him from the kitchens, a look of pity on her face as she greets him. Robin takes the offered sustenance, thanks her in a robotic tone and goes back to his stupid paperwork, handling the folders in his grasp like they're the ones to blame for his miserable state.

He's so caught up in his frustration that at first he doesn't realize Ruby is still there, but then he notices her, standing on the other side of his desk, nervously shifting her weight from one heeled foot to the other as she bites her lip apprehensively.

"What is it?"

"Look," she says with a heavy sigh, "I know it's none of my business, and that you can't really talk about it, but... what happened? After you got hurt saving her I figured you'd be inseparable, and instead look at you! You're a mess."

"How nice of you to point that out," he says sarcastically, still glaring down at his papers.

"If it's any consolation, I don't think she's faring any better."

That grabs his attention, and he looks up to find that her pity stare has turned into a kind smile and soft eyes that seem to fully understand his pain.

"Why do you say that? Is she alright?"

"She's... not herself," Ruby explains, "She's looking pretty gaunt. I know she hasn't been sleeping well because we've had to cover the bags under her eyes for TV stuff. She barely eats, rarely talks, all she does is work, which I guess is her way to deal with... whatever it is you two are going through."

Her words stay with him for the rest of the day, haunting him. It hurts him that Regina's not near, that he can't talk to her, that she won't allow him to. He has half a mind to just use the secret passageway and show up in her room, but decides against it, because _yes_ , he's desperate, but he won't invade her space like that, won't cross that line and risk her pushing him farther away. No, he'll wait until she's ready.

He's seen her on TV almost every day, answering the same questions over and over again during press conferences and interviews about the shooting, prying journalists attempting to get a gossipy statement out of her regarding Robin. Today she's speaking from the press room within the White House, attempting to do a final Q&A to close down the subject for good, but it's no different, reporters almost jumping over each other to ask for details.

"Madam President, what do you think drove Agent Locksley to make the decision to save you like that?" one of them asks.

"I suppose you'll have to ask him that. But I will say that Agent Locksley is one of the best men in the Secret Service. As most of you know, he's been in my service since I was governor of Maine, and has always been diligent and dedicated to his job. He's loyal, and committed, and I am forever grateful to him for saving my life." There's a sadness to her, a hunch to her shoulders. He doubts anyone will notice, imperceptible as it is to the people around her, but it's different for him, he knows her body language too well.

"Is that why you seemed so intent on staying there with him, while completely disregarding your own safety?"

"A man had just taken a bullet for me, I wasn't doing much thinking at the moment, least of all about my safety. I just wanted to make sure he was alright."

"Do you think it was negligence on his part that he couldn't prevent the attempt on your life to begin with?" another asks, some snooty redhead that Robin instantly dislikes.

"Not at all. I believe -I _know_ \- that Agent Locksley and everyone on the Secret Service did their job impeccably well that night, and they have been working nonstop since then to catch the mastermind behind all this. Accusations of negligence are nothing but a cheap trick to discredit the hard work Agent Locksley and his team have been doing."

"Is that why you fired him? Because he was doing _such_ a good job?" the same reporter presses on, the camera focusing on her and the easy grin she's sporting. Robin's been among Americans for so long now, he'd forgotten how deftly polite the English can be when insulting someone. He can't say he appreciates the reminder.

"I did not fire him," Regina responds sharply, "And I do not appreciate your attempts to discredit Agent Locksley, or me, Ms. Greene."

She then looks around the room, her voice firm as she adds, "As I've said before, I allowed Agent Locksley to step down to a less complicated position. He needs time to recover, lessening his workload is the least I can do after what he did for me."

Oh, she's good. Not that he's surprised, she's a natural at this, knows how to hold her own and inject enough truth in her statements so that no one dares pry further. The redheaded journalist looks ashamed and somewhat angry when the camera shifts back to her, but after three seconds the focus turns back to Regina at her podium, and the mayhem continues.

"You've said that the shooter was there on someone else's orders. Any leads on who it could be?" a younger man chimes in. August Booth from The Globe, Robin's seen him around in previous conferences, he's thorough and direct, sometimes a bit too much so, but still far more respectful than his peers.

"I'm afraid information on possible suspects is confidential for now," is Regina's response before she moves on to the next reporter, a young woman this time, with very light blond hair set in a thick braid. She looks a bit more inexperienced than the rest of the vultures, but she also seems nicer, smiles when Regina calls for her to ask her question.

"First, let me say again how very glad we are to see you safe and sound, ma'am," she starts, "I have only one question: How is our hero doing?"

Regina grins at that, the camera catches it just in time for Robin to admire the way her lips turn up at the corners before she replies.

"He's recovering just fine, has been back to work for a few days now and doing very well, thank you."

It goes on for the next twenty minutes, quickfire questions that she answers with poise and composure, giving away enough to satisfy them but not too much that they can spin it into something else. She's very straightforward in her answers, his Regina, and despite their current situation, he can't help but feel proud of her.

* * *

 **RM:** _I miss you, too._

It's the first text he receives from her since this whole mess began, and Robin sighs with relief. It's early, just a little past nine, and he wonders if...

 **RL:** _Can I see you?_

He types the message one-handed and with trembling fingers, sends it with anxiety and anticipation weighing him down in equal parts.

 **RM:** _I'm in the bedroom._

He's so distracted in his hurry to get to her that he dashes out of his office without locking it, realizing his blunder halfway up the stairs and cursing when he has to go back, keys dangling noisily from his sling-free hand.

He makes quick work of it, turning the key twice and activating the security mechanism carefully, typing a codified version of Roland's birth date into the password slot and waiting for the light to turn from red to green before making his way down the hall, passing by his old office (now Emma's) on the way. To his surprise, Agent Heller is there, looking shady as ever as he walks around the space and turns a few folders over on the desk to check the labels.

"May I help you?" Robin asks in a clipped tone as he barges in. He has no patience for this man's idiocy today.

"I was just... looking for Agent Swan," he answers, and Robin can easily tell it's a lie.

"She's out," he remarks.

"I noticed."

"You don't have the clearance to be inside her office without her present. You need to leave."

"I left my... earpiece here, I came to pick it up," Heller replies, looking around.

"You should go."

"I'll be out as soon as I find my earpiece," the man spits back, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"You'll get it when Emma returns and finds it herself, or allows you to come inside and look for it, _you_ are not allowed to be here on your own," Robin presses, adjusting the sling around his injured arm.

"You know, Locksley, you're one of us now, no longer the boss, which means you don't get to order me around," Heller argues defiantly.

"Would you like me to present a written report to Emma and John that you've been snooping, then? Because I can certainly do that," he throws back, and it gives the other man pause, has him glaring at Robin before he resentfully makes his way out of the office. Robin stays right outside the door for a few minutes, making sure he won't return, and when he hears Emma's voice as she walks down the hall, he leaves, assured that Agent Heller won't have a chance to sneak back in. He has half a mind to stay and tell his colleague about the incident, but he has someone to see. He'll talk to Emma later.

* * *

The lights are off in Regina's room, with only the stark glare of her TV battling the darkness. That is, until she sees him coming in through the secret entrance, sits up from her bed and turns on the bedside lamp, lower lip trembling as she scrambles out of the covers and into his open arm.

Robin holds on tight, revels in the lavender smell of her damp locks, feels her shaky breaths against the fabric of his shirt. She's fresh out of the shower, her skin dewy and warm, and he can't get enough of her, his hand running up and down her back under the smooth silk of her camisole, lips dropping kiss after kiss on her hair.

"Please don't shut me out again," he begs, crushing their bodies together even more when she responds with a dry sob and a vehement shake of her head.

"Never again," she rasps.

They spend a few minutes in silence, simply enjoying the feeling of finally holding each other for the first time in so many days, and he feels the tension drain out of him the longer he spends in Regina's embrace, her own breathing deepening as she relaxes as well.

"I'm sorry I demoted you," she murmurs.

"Low blow, that one," he agrees with a humorless chuckle.

"I hated doing it, but this is how it has to be. I can't lose you, Robin, I can't let you die for me," Regina rambles against his shirt, her voice muffled, but clear enough for him to catch it.

"I know," he says, and doesn't protest, because as cross as he was with her for what she did, now that he's with her, Robin has no desire to rehash old arguments, he just needs to hold her, hear her voice, touch her, _feel_ her.

"I love you," he tells her, kissing her forehead when she leans back to see his face, and her eyes grow wet with tears as she smiles up at him.

"I love you, too," she says without hesitation, and it makes his heart swell.

"What changed?" he asks then, curious. "What made you…?"

"You were willing to die for me," she says simply, her eyes set on her fingers as they run warily over the sling that holds his injured arm. "You've told me before that you would do whatever it takes to protect me, and I've never doubted you, Robin, not once, but then all of a sudden the danger was real, and I realized all this time you could've died without ever hearing me tell you that I love you. You deserve better than that. You deserve more, especially from me."

"Regina, you didn't have to say anything you weren't ready to say, I wasn't expec-"

"I know you weren't," she says, interrupting him, "that's not… I didn't say it because I felt obligated, I said it because…" she huffs, trying to find her words and exhaling in frustration when she can't, so Robin seeks to comfort her, takes her hand in his and rubs the pad of his thumb over her knuckles in reassurance.

Regina takes a moment to breathe, and he can see the wheels turning in her head as she gathers her thoughts, then looks at him and asks, "Robin, what do you see in me?"

He feels his confused frown soften at that, a small smile peering through as he considers his answer.

"Hopefully the same thing you see in me," he responds, "a second chance, someone to share the rest of my life with…" there are tears welling up in her eyes as he speaks, so he tries to lighten the topic, adds a cheeky, "and you're quite a good kisser," that has her breathing out a little laugh.

" _That's_ why I said it," she tells him then, "not because I felt like I had to after what you did for me, but because I see all those things in you, too. You and Roland are everything to me, Robin, and I just... god, I was so scared."

His holds her tighter then, lets her take deep, calming breaths with her face buried in his chest, nose pressed into his shirt as he murmurs that it's okay, that he's here, _everything will be fine_.

They've a need for intimacy, an urgency to reconnect, and yet there's this unhurried comfort, a laziness in Regina's fingers as they remove his sling and his clothes, an air of reverence in the way she takes in the sight of him, kissing the area around his wound delicately while he simply watches, entranced by the light caress of her hands as they trail along his body. It occurs to him then, that despite them having been together countless times before, this is the first instance where her feelings are finally out in the open, and it heightens everything, every sensation, every touch, every shiver and gasp...

He takes his time with her, undresses her just as slowly as she did him, kisses every inch of her, marveling at her nipples and lavishing them with attention when she stands bare before him. Regina whimpers as he lets go of one hardened peak and moves on to the other, circling his tongue around it and sucking, her loud hiss of _Yeesss!_ making him grin smugly when he releases her breast from his mouth with a wet pop.

Robin walks around her, notices the way she trembles with anticipation when he settles behind her, kissing her shoulder blades, kneeling as he peppers more kisses down her spine, to the curve of her rear and back up again. His hand follows the same path, then strays lower and lower until he can slip a finger between her cheeks and move a little further down to her inner thighs, teasing her entrance, and Robin groans at how warm she is there, wants to bury himself in that delicious heat and never ever leave it.

He moves back to her front and then his lips are on hers, languid and hot as they suckle and dance, giving way for wet tongues to meet and tangle, and the taste of her is wonderful, made all the more exquisite after all that time spent apart.

His hands gently push her onto the bed, where he climbs above her and loses himself in her skin, his tongue tasting her, his eyes watching her as she writhes under him, gasps and lets out tight, breathy moans that fuel his desire.

When his fingers push inside her, find her wet and hot and willing, Robin can't help the soft curse he lets out, licking his lips when she gives a muffled _Mmm_ in response. He scoots down to the foot of the bed and finds a comfortable position, his wounded arm moving down gingerly, hand reaching and pumping his cock at a careful, measured pace, so as not to make his torn muscles sore.

His mouth is on her clit, lapping at her in quick strokes while his unburdened arm remains on the bed, fingers slipping further into her, curving upwards to find that spot that drives her wild with need as he sucks hard, then licks again, firm and unrelenting, a perfect contrast to the slow push of his hand.

Regina comes on his tongue with a gasp of his name, and he keeps going, prolongs her bliss with yet more languid thrusts of his fingers, hitting their mark deep inside her as her pleasure unravels.

"I love you," she rasps, and it thrills him, has him smiling against the inside of her thigh and then climbing up the mattress, hard and ready to bury himself inside her, but he forgets about his injury, and the effort of pushing himself up makes his arm twinge as he stumbles to the side, slightly losing his balance.

"Does that still hurt?" she asks, concern coloring her tone.

"A little," he confesses, "I think I strained it too much by leaning my weight on it just now."

Regina sits up then, kisses his lips sweetly and helps maneuver him onto the bed, propped up against the headboard so that he's almost sitting, her stunning figure hovering above him as she straddles his waist, her hand moving down to grasp his cock, thumb spreading the bead of precum at his tip, her eyes focusing on his.

"Let me do all the work this time, okay?" she says, smiling tenderly at him, and he has no problem with that, none at all, because then she's scooching down, until she's settled on all fours between his legs, her arse in perfect view as she leans lower down on her elbows, her head level with his erection, tongue slipping out to give him a long, flat lick up his shaft.

His breathing is embarrassingly shallow already, his body jittery with the pleasure that radiates through him when Regina sucks the tip of him into her mouth, winding her tongue around it and sucking again when he lets out an incoherent sound and thrusts inadvertently into her mouth.

"Impatient, are we?" she teases after letting him slip out with sloppily, then easing her lips around him once more, taking him in slowly, until her nose brushes against the lowermost part of his stomach and he feels his tip hit the back of her throat.

"Fuck!" he gasps, loving the way she slowly starts to bob her head up, letting him slip out again, languidly this time, then moving further down to suck at his balls, hand stroking his shaft up and down for a few seconds before she heads back up, wrapping her hot, wet mouth around him again and sucking in earnest, igniting little beams of pleasure that have him hardening further as she licks and slurps and _Hmm_ s around him, the vibrations making him cry out.

She bobs him out of her mouth again, but this time she lingers at the head, her hand pulling back his foreskin so she can lick at the little ridge on his tip, smiling wickedly up at him when the action has him involuntarily jerking his hips, seeking more of her. His good hand tangles in her hair, plays with the soft tresses as he hooks his fingers around the back of her head, guiding her movements and speed, slowing her down until she's taking him in all the way down, throat constricting around him as her tongue lays flat against the underside of his shaft.

"God, I love watching you when I do this," Regina breathes when he's fully out of her mouth, her eyes hot and fervent on his. "Your skin gets so warm," she says, trailing a hand over his thigh, "and you get all flustered and riled up, like you _have_ to have me. Makes me feel sexy."

"You _are_ sexy, my love," he tells her in a strangled whisper, biting his lip to muffle the moan he lets out when she sucks harder at his tip, hand pumping him up and down as she does, and Robin has to wait until she releases him before he can finish his thought, the exquisite feeling of her lips on his cock making it impossible for him to be coherent. "And your mouth is incredible."

She grins and takes him in once more, sucking at the tip again and laving her tongue around it before she continues to envelop the rest of him in the heat of her mouth, head moving up and down as he guides her, his fingers scratching gently at her scalp while he watches her, his arousal building up and up.

"Come here," he murmurs after a few more seconds of her sweet torture, guiding her head away from him and up, so that she can climb atop his body and settle there, straddling him again, his lips finding hers in a sweet kiss.

"I won't last long if you keep at it," he admits, "and I want to be inside you when I come."

She kisses him again, acquiesces with a low _Okay_ , and then she's rising just enough for the tip of his cock to brush her entrance, a moan tumbling out of her when he grips his shaft and moves it up and down against her, coating the tip in her wetness, teasing her clit.

He tells her how beautiful she is, how much he wants her, revels in the way she breathes out a _God, I want you, too,_ before she bats his hand away from his cock and replaces it with hers. Her breath catches when she starts to sink down onto him, inch by hard inch, the way she tightens around him making him groan, eyes rolling to the back of his head as she begins to move.

" _Mmh_ ," he grunts, "you're so tight, so warm. Fuck, I've missed you."

And he has, so, so much, missed how she feels wrapped around him, wet and hot and incredible, her walls fluttering as she takes him in to the hilt, the rhythm of her hips making him almost twitch with the need to see her come all over his cock.

They move at a snail's pace, and he's mesmerized by her, enjoys the way she leans down to his waiting mouth for a kiss, his head ducking when they part to swirl his tongue around her nipples, graze his teeth over the swells of her breasts, his arms winding around her waist as he steers her movements, circling his hips to meet her, feeling his cock slide in, out, and back in at the same torturously slow speed. He knows it's not enough to make her come, not without some attention to her clit, but this isn't about reaching their peak just yet, it's about connecting, about wrapping themselves up in this whirlwind of sensation, made all the more intense with the languid roll of their hips.

Regina looks at him with lustful eyes, bites at his lower lip and circles her hips just a tad faster, wanting more. His good arm abandons its place at her waist, hand moving down to where they're joined, his thumb toying with her clit as she picks up the pace. It's still slow, still deep and wonderful, but the change in angle when she tilts just slightly to the left helps him hit just the right spot, and he delights in the little whimper that bubbles out of her, finds purchase against the headboard at his back and plunges into her just a little quicker.

"Yes!" she gasps, "Just lik- _oh, fuck!_ Just like that," and Robin continues his steady pounding, Regina's arms wrapping around his neck as she kisses him hurriedly, their tongues battling and exploring fiercely while he slowly raises his injured arm, until his hand can grope at her breasts, gently squeezing the succulent swells and rolling one nipple and then the other between thumb and index, swallowing the high-pitched moan she lets out against his open mouth.

When she comes for the second time, it's with his name on her lips, her hands grasping at his shoulders so hard he knows her nails have probably left little crescent marks on his skin, and he marvels at the sight of her, the way her eyes close and her mouth falls open, her breath mingling with his when he touches his forehead to hers, giving a few more quick thrusts before he joins her at the height of her pleasure.

They collapse on tired limbs, and Regina instantly gravitates towards him, not even bothering with the sticky mess he's left between her legs as she settles against him, peppering kisses all over his torso, but Robin is loathe to have her uncomfortable, as he knows she will be in a few minutes, so he hauls himself out of the bed, laughing at the pout she gives him, and walks dumbly to the linen closet, finding a towel and wetting it with warm water from the tap before he makes his way back to her, wiping off the remnants of their lovemaking with it and enjoying the satisfied sound she makes, how she almost purrs as she stretches her arms above her head and lies flat on her back, head tilted to the side to look at him, her hand cradling his cheek as she smiles.

"I've missed this," Regina tells him, and Robin turns to place a kiss on her palm before he tells her he did, too.

The towel lays forgotten on the floor after he's cleaned them both up, and they're back to cuddling under the plush covers, his bad arm winding gently around her middle, her back flush against his chest, his nose pressed into her hair, taking in the scent of lavender, of home.

"How much longer do you need to wear the sling?" she questions in a low voice, turning cautiously to face him, careful not to jostle his arm too much as they both sit up a little, Robin leaning his back against the headboard with Regina's body snuggled against his.

"Just a couple more weeks, Dr. Whale says the tissue is healing quite nicely, I should be back to normal soon."

She trembles as she lifts a hand and ghosts her fingers over the fleshy scar, shaky breaths letting him know exactly what she's thinking.

"Regina, I'm okay," he reminds her.

"I know," she says, sounding unsure before reiterating more confidently, "I know," then trailing off into an apprehensive, "I just…"

"What?" he asks, and watches her work her jaw nervously before she answers.

"I had a dream once," she begins after a few seconds of charged silence, and she doesn't look up at him, but rather stares at her fingers on his scar as she continues, "where you and I were at a state dinner, I was wearing a long red gown and there was this lovely band playing in the corner, and everyone paired up and started dancing, but I was alone."

Robin pulls her a little closer at that, as a way to reassure her that she's _not_ alone, he's there, he'll always be there.

"What happened after that?" he prompts, and feels her smile into his chest, his chin tucked into her hairline as he listens.

"You showed up," she tells him, as if it's the most obvious thing. "You asked me to dance and held me close, and in that moment everything just... disappeared, and I felt so at peace."

He hums in acknowledgement, closing his eyes and imagining the scene she's described, smiling fondly at the mental picture.

"After you got hurt, I started having nightmares. It begins the same way as that dream, but then when you show up, you start bleeding and die before my eyes. I know you're okay, and that the wound wasn't as serious as we thought, but it's like I can't shake that fear..." she confesses, her voice breaking at the end of her sentence, and finally he understands why she'd wanted to tell him about this in the first place.

"Do you still dream it that way?" he asks, curious.

"Yes," Regina admits, "it's been a bit of a recurring thing from that first night. Sleeping hasn't come to me so easily since then."

He sighs, ducking to place a kiss on her forehead, his lips lingering there on her skin as he speaks.

"We're having that dance," he informs her, and grins when she pulls her head back to look at him, curiosity etched on her features. "When I get rid of that pesky sling for good, and can move my arm properly, we are having that dance. You'll wear a red dress, just like you described, and I'll twirl you around and hold you for as long as it takes to chase the bad dream away, and only the good one remains. Alright?"

"Perfect," she agrees, beaming before she dots one, two kisses on his shoulder and they settle fully back down into the mattress, Regina's body shifting so that her back is once again pressed to Robin's chest, his wounded arm swung carefully over her waist.

Five, ten, fifteen minutes go by as they bask in their closeness, their breathing slowing and relaxing to the point that Robin would think her asleep if it weren't for the fact that her hand is settled over his on her stomach, fingers caressing his knuckles back and forth.

"So... how are things with Emma at the helm?" he ventures, because they're going to have to discuss this eventually.

"She's good, a bit of a hardass, according to Mal, but she's been great," she replies, her voice low, hesitant.

"You don't have to feel guilty, Regina," he assures her, landing a kiss on the nape of her neck. "I'm glad that it's working out, that she's doing a good job."

"You're not mad at me for taking your job and giving it to someone else?" she asks him then, turning to face him again, her eyes staring into his with trepidation and worry.

"I was," he admits, "but I'm not anymore. All I care about is that you're safe, my love. If Sidney-"

She silences him with a passionate kiss, shuts him up good and proper, and when they part, it's Regina who speaks.

"Sidney will be caught before he can harm me, and then everything will be okay," she insists, not leaving room for argument. Robin still worries, her words having done nothing to eradicate the fear that's been eating at him since this whole mess began, but for now he drops the subject, content to just hold her close and enjoy her.

They go back to comfortable silence, her head on his chest, her body nestled against him as his uninjured arm wraps around her back. Her fingers keep dancing over him, drawing random shapes on his ribs and stomach, her deep breaths warming his skin.

"So are you taking the live video feed of your chambers from my room and installing it in Emma's now? Because that might be where I draw the line," he quips, looking to lighten the mood after the not-so-fun topic of conversation they've just dealt with.

It works, and Regina giggles against him, burrowing into him as she shakes her head, drops a kiss near his jaw.

"No worries, Agent Locksley, that privilege is reserved for a very select few," she says coyly, and Robin raises an eyebrow at her.

"I do hope by 'select few' you mean _only_ me," he counters, and her amusement glows, brightens the room somehow.

"Only you," she clarifies once her laughter has died down, kissing away the pout he'd been giving her up until that moment, and he surrenders to her, kisses back with equal fervor, until they part and rest easy again, her nose skimming his throat where she can reach it.

"My education reform passed this morning," she informs him, and he knows, of course he knows, he's been keeping an eye on everything she's doing, but he still feels that surge of pride slither in at the mention of Regina's newest accomplishment, and he turns his head to drop a kiss on her hair.

"I heard. Congratulations, my love," he tells her, genuinely happy that one of her biggest goals has been achieved. She's been working on this reform since before she became President, has created a law that allows for a full makeover of the education system through new scholarships and diversity policies, and the granting of a bigger budget to raise the salaries of public educators and build more schools in low-income areas.

"Thank you," she whispers fondly in response to his praise, pausing before she adds, "thing is, we've been preparing for it for the past week or so, with the help of a few friends."

"Oh?" Robin asks, intrigued, he'd heard nothing about this.

"Do you remember Kristoff Rocktroll?"

"Governor of Pennsylvania," Robin nods.

"Yes, well, he wasn't always the elegant governor we know. He grew up in a children's home in South Philly, and when he heard of the reform, he wanted to be involved and show his support, so he... he's building a school there," she says, pausing for effect, and Robin can feel her body humming with excitement during those few quiet seconds before she continues. "They're starting the construction next week. Kristoff called and told me he'd asked the kids at the home to give their new school a name for when it's finished, and they... they're naming it after me."

"Oh, wow... That's wonderful," he tells her, ecstatic for this little surprise.

"It is," she says with a smile that lights up her whole face, "but here's the part you're not going to like: Kristoff wants to raise awareness on the situation of these underprivileged children and their lack of proper educational institutions, maybe bring in a few donations, so he's asked me to go check out the area the day after tomorrow and bring the press along, to sort of kick off the project."

"Regina," he starts, his tone laced with worry.

"I know it's risky," she says, her fingers caressing the bruised bits of skin around his wound, "but Robin, this will be the first school built under the new law, it'll mark the start of everything with this reform, and it's a project very dear to Kristoff, I don't want to let him down after how much he supported us in this."

He sighs, already knowing where this is going.

"So you've made your choice," he says, defeated.

"I have to do this," she insists, "please tell me you understand."

"I do, my love, but that doesn't make it any less dangerous," he insists, and Regina sighs.

"I know," she acknowledges, "but it's been two weeks, surely Sidney won't try anything again, not when we've got the entire FBI looking for him and his hitman is in jail."

"That's not something we can be sure of, Regina."

"You're right, but I can't stay cooped up here while we figure out where he's hiding," she counters, taking a deep breath before she cups his cheek and rubs her thumb along it as she continues, "I promise I'll be careful, Mal will be with me, Emma too. And I'll call, I'll text. I go, say a few words, pose for some pictures and come back the same day, you won't even notice I'm gone."

He chuckles at her attempts to reassure him, because fruitless as they are, she's still adorable in her efforts, so he busses her lips gently, tells her he'll be waiting for her, and holds her until she falls asleep.

When dawn starts to break a few minutes before 6AM, he buries his nose in her hair, breathes her in as his good arm squeezes around her sleeping form, and then releases her, making sure to tuck the covers further up around her, so that they make up for the withdrawn warmth of his body as he leaves the bed, and quietly makes his way back to his room through the passage.

He has a later wake-up call these days, seeing as being the head of David's security carries out less duties than being head of the Secret Service, but Robin doesn't sleep the hour and a half he has left before he has to get ready for work. Instead, he worries, stays lost in thought as he applies the ointment Dr. Whale gave him, some cool, minty smelling thing to help with his scarring.

It does nothing to soothe him, and it's only hours later, when Roland bounces in to drag him to brunch, that his troubled mind takes a momentary break.

* * *

He and his son watch Regina go the next day, seeing her off with some of the staff by the South Lawn, waiting for Marine One to be out of sight before they walk back inside and towards the kitchen, where they meet Ruby for breakfast.

"I need you to do something for me," he tells her when Roland's finished eating and scampers off with Chef Lucas, excited to help her pick out a dinner menu for Regina's return.

"Shoot," Ruby mumbles through a mouthful of pancakes.

"I'm going to Philadelphia, I need someone to watch Roland for the day."

"I thought you weren't supposed to take part in presidential security stuff until your arm is fully healed," she says quizzically, and Robin gives her a guilty look, but says nothing.

"She doesn't know you're going, does she?" Ruby adds when it dawns on her, and the light accusation has him instantly listing his reasons to go.

"It's not safe, I have to be there to-" he starts, but she raises a hand to halt his excuses.

"No need for that, your motives are your own, and I understand. Don't worry, I'll take care of Roland."

He thanks her profusely, heads to the other side of the kitchen to say goodbye to his son, citing that he has to go help Emma and John take care of Regina and promising to be back later. Roland is a little taken aback, used as he is now to spending his mornings with his father, but Ruby's offer to draw with markers on the whiteboard in her office has him beaming, bidding his father farewell with a smile.

* * *

The flight lasts under an hour long by helicopter, and he climbs out of Marine Two (he'd lied, of course, told the pilot he'd been summoned to Philly last minute, leaving the poor woman no option but to take him there), the harsh morning wind blowing right against his wound, making him wince from the discomfort. He grabs a cab, prattles off the address of the future school and adjusts the sling around his injured arm, to keep it as still as possible while the driver speeds through the bumpy Philadelphia roads.

The city is crowded, people in twos and threes and tens walking down the busy streets with little flags in their hands as they all make their way to the construction site, eager to get a glimpse of their president.

The site itself is a barren stretch of land close to the hospital, large enough in its unoccupied space to house the near thousands of spectators gathering to see Regina give her speech. Robin spots Emma at the foot of the small stage that's been set up, checking her watch and taking in her surroundings. He makes his way to her, greeting her sheepishly, waiting for her to yell at him for having shown up here without her permission. Luckily, she has a good sense of humor about it, and isn't too mad about his defying orders.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," she taunts with an amused shake of her head.

"You knew I'd come?"

"You haven't let her out of your sight for five years, of course I knew you'd come. Not that you're excused from following orders," she warns, "I'm gonna have to punish you for this."

"I will gladly take whatever grim torture you have in store," he replies, relieved that she's not demanding that he return to Washington immediately.

"Good, now get to work. I won't have you distracting the team, though, they all know you can't be here, and Feuer will probably kill you if she sees you, so just... stay low, okay?"

"You won't even know I'm here," he assures, tightening the sling on his arm and getting ready to lose himself in the crowd. But then he remembers something.

"Hey, I've been meaning to tell you, I caught Heller snooping around your office a couple of days ago."

"Heller?" Emma asks, narrowing her eyes suspiciously, and Robin frowns, something isn't right.

"He was looking through some files on your desk, but I threw him out. He said he was picking up his earpiece, that he'd left it there after meeting with you."

"That's bullshit, the only person I've met with in that office is you, when you stopped by to catch me up on things, and that was ten days ago. What is that little weasel up to?"

Robin figures that out when she answers his next question.

"Where is he now?" he asks.

"By the entrance. He's handling the outside perimeter," Emma informs, eyes widening when she catches up to what Robin is thinking.

That's it.

That's when it all clicks.

"It's him, Heller's the one who's been helping Sidney Glass," the realization hits him like a ton of bricks, and he starts pacing anxiously, piecing it all together. "That's why we couldn't figure out who the mole was, Heller was on the investigative team for that, he probably covered his tracks whenever a clue showed up. He's been playing us this whole time."

"That can't be right," Emma says with an astonished shake of her head, "we screened _everyone_ before they joined that team! And he's bitter, sure, but he wouldn't stoop so low as to help a murderer..." she trails off, sounding unsure, frowning as she thinks better of it, "would he?"

Time is running out, and Governor Rocktroll is already standing at the podium, commenting on the new reform, introducing Regina to the people clamoring for their president to appear.

"We have to find him," Robin says, " _now_."

"Agent Heller please report to temporary headquarters," Emma calls, hand on her earpiece to activate the communications system as she scans the area. There's no answer.

"Agent Heller, report status," she insists, angrily this time, but gets no response, and then the roar of the enthusiastic crowd drowns out any other sound as Regina steps onto the stage.

Robin can no longer stand still.

She's smiling. Proud and energetic as she waves at everyone and begins to speak, and this time, things don't slow down like they did when he'd saved her from Percival. If anything, time speeds _up_ , harsh and unforgiving, and Robin stands there, powerless to stop what he knows is about to happen, Regina's words and the audience's cheers lost under the loud thumping of his heart in his ears.

He doesn't hear the gunshot, no one does, and it isn't until he sees her on the floor, bleeding through the side of her stomach, that he realizes what's happened.

Chaos breaks, and he feels himself being carried off by the scattering mass of onlookers scrambling to get out of harm's way. In the back of his mind, he's aware of the sharp pain on his arm, as it's banged up and prodded by shoulders and hands that drag against him as he tries to almost swim his way back to the front of the stage, bouncing from the body of one panicked spectator to the next, his heart thump-thump-thumping faster and faster the closer he gets to Regina.

There are agents gathered around her, Mal included, her hand applying pressure to the wound that's still spouting blood while Regina tries to stay conscious, looking disoriented as she takes in the faces around her, and he's... terrified. None of this should be happening, she was wearing protective gear, for crying out loud! But then he remembers it's usually Heller who's in charge of overseeing those particular details, and it dawns on him that the bulletproof vest she's wearing must have been tampered with, taking away any protection that could've saved her from that bullet.

Robin doesn't register what it is he's using for purchase, it could be a wall, a chair, a person, he has no idea, all he knows is that by pushing against it, he manages to jump onto the stage, and the landing is a little skewed, has him hitting his still weak arm right smack against the base of the podium, but he ignores the pain, it doesn't matter, none of it matters.

In seconds he's up, hurriedly making his way to the huddle of black suits and pushing his way through them, gathering Regina in his arms and replacing Mal's hand with his own, assessing the damage while everyone springs into action when they hear Emma calling to them from a nearby building.

"R... Robin?" Regina gasps, tears falling from her eyes. The crowd has left, and it's only them now, police officers and Secret Service agents surrounding the perimeter while they wait the few seconds it takes for the ambulance to make its way from the other side of the street.

"I'm here, my love," he tells her, not caring who hears his urgent whispers as he cradles her face and lands kisses all over it, breathlessly promising her everything will be fine.

"Just breathe, alright? You're going to be okay," he tells her, but she grabs onto his hand, the one he has pressed to the wound, and mutters three words that shatter him.

"No, I'm not," she chokes out, and he won't have it, refuses to lose her. This can't be it, it just _can't_.

"Yes, you are, Regina. Look at me," he pleads, "Regina, look at me!"

She does, but he can see the effort it takes for her to keep her eyes open.

"You're going to be okay. Alright? You have to be. I owe you a dance, remember?"

His breath leaves him when she smiles sadly up at him, another tear leaking from the corner of her eye and falling down her temple and into her hair before she passes out, and he can feel himself trembling. He's scared, so, so scared, but he pushes down the crippling horror that tries to overwhelm him, focusing on the ambulance that appears and opens its doors, paramedics clambering out to tend to her.

The stairs to the backstage area are blocked by fallen banners, chairs and amplifiers that were knocked over during the chaotic evacuation, meaning the doctors cannot get through with the stretcher, and they're pressed for time, so instead of forcing their way through, one of them simply lands his hands flat on the stage floor and jumps, hauling himself up and running to where he is, checking Regina's pulse and pupils and yelling for his colleague to bring the ambulance closer.

"Right, we just have to carry her to the stretcher at the end of the stage, alright?" he tells him, and Robin nods, corrects him.

" _I'll_ carry her to the stretcher," he says, and his voice sounds foreign, almost dull, a complete contrast to the turmoil brewing inside him.

The medic nods, gives him some space to maneuver, and Robin kisses Regina's forehead, mutters once more that she'll be alright, and lifts her. He flinches a little, his wounded arm almost collapsing under the strain of hoisting her body up from the blood-stained floor, but he holds steady, not letting go of her for one second.

The moment he stands, however, the nightmare only intensifies, because when he's delivered her to the paramedic waiting on the ground and jumped down from the stage himself, the sound of gunshots pierces his carefully crafted mask of calm. He throws himself over her body on the stretcher, and hears the smack of a body falling next to him. The paramedic is dead.

It doesn't seem to be more than two weapons firing the rounds, but in his distress he might as well be surrounded by shooters. Bullets rain down on them, hit a couple of agents and the ambulance driver, splattering the vehicle's front window with his blood.

An eerie silence settles in around them, and Robin knows it all too well. It's the lull that always follows emptying a gun, the in-between that precedes a second wave of horror. They're recharging, he only has a few seconds before they fire again.

He hooks his arms under Regina and heaves, pulling her up and battling the now searing pain in his arm as he holds her as carefully as possible... and runs.

It's difficult to keep a good hold on her with his arm in the shape it is, but he soldiers on, manages to slip behind the stage just as shots are fired again, and he hears agents yelling in the distance, firing back at Sidney... or Isaac... Robin doesn't really know who is doing the killing this time, nor does he care, all he cares about is making it to the hospital ER, which he can see at the other end of the street.

He doesn't stop running, feels his legs burning as he pushes on, until he bursts through the gates of the ER and shouts out for help, collapsing on the floor when the doctors take Regina from him and place her on a gurney, wheeling her behind doors he's told he's not allowed through.

"No, I need to be with her! I need to make sure she's alright I... I need," he wheezes out, exhaustion and the pain in his arm getting the better of him, and he stumbles, holds on to the wall for balance as the nurse he's arguing with looks him over.

"We have to get you checked out, your arm is bleeding," she tries, and truth be told he hadn't even noticed he was bleeding, her assessment coming as a bit of a surprise. It doesn't matter, though, nothing matters right now except Regina, he has to be with her, he has to know she's okay.

"You don't understand," he insists, "that's the President of the United States, she can't die, you can't let her die, she's, I have to save her, the guns, they, I have t-" somewhere in the back of his mind he knows he's not making any sense, and he's dizzy, dizzy and tired and _scared_ , at a loss as to what to do, all he knows is Regina has to live.

"Listen to me, we won't let anything happen to her," the nurse insists, "but you need to let someone look at you."

Her gentle touch grounds him as she says the words, helps guide him to sit on an empty bed in triage, where she searches around for some sterile tongs and rubbing alcohol and cleans up his wound, pressing a new strip of gauze to it when she's done.

"Hold this for me while I go get the doctor, alright?" she says softly, waiting for him to do so before she leaves, closing the thin curtain behind her.

His shirt is drenched in Regina's blood, and somehow the sight of it makes a wave of nausea erupt, has him grabbing the bedpan and emptying the contents of his upset stomach into it just as a young woman in a white coat appears from behind the curtain, the nurse from earlier following just behind and introducing her to him as Dr. Kathryn Midas.

Dr. Midas checks the reopened injury and sets everything in place to stitch it back up, informing him that her father is the doctor in charge of the president's health at the moment, promising she'll find out her status for him if he just _stays still_ and lets her treat him, so he obeys, feels himself drifting as the adrenaline drains out of his system, anesthesia numbing his arm as she stitches.

The curtain is left open when the two women leave, and Robin is so desperate for news he can't stay still, leaving his bed and searching for someone who'll get him any sort of information, too impatient to wait for the young doctor to get him an update. Suddenly, he catches a glimpse of Mal's face as she runs in, looking around frantically. When she spots him, she stalks towards him, and it's only then that Robin notices a few men with giant cameras just outside, being kept at bay by the hospital's security team as some agents stand in formation by the door, blocking the view of the inside.

"Where is she?!" Mal asks, unnerved.

"I don't know. They took her in and wouldn't let me through and I can't find someone to tell me a bloody thing!" he yells out, his eyes angry as they settle on the hospital staff milling about them, one hand flying out to point in their general direction, a bad move on his part, because the second he does it, he sees Regina's blood again, his gaze drawn to the red splotch of it on his sleeve, and the nausea hits him a second time.

"Hey, easy," Mal says, catching him before he collapses on the floor, sitting him on an empty chair in the waiting room and grabbing him a paper cup of water. "Drink this and wait here, I'll go get us some answers."

He drinks and watches her go, sees her brandishing her Secret Service ID ( _of course_ , the ID, he should've shown his, _why didn't he show them his?_ ) at the nurses and residents who try to get her to calm down (why does everyone insist that they calm down? Can they not _see_ what's happening?!), and then another, much older doctor is there, talking softly to her, his face somber as he says something that has her raising a hand to her mouth.

Robin is about to get up and demand to know what's happening when Mal starts dragging the doctor towards the waiting room, urging him to explain Regina's status again.

The man shakes his hand, introducing himself.

"I'm Dr. Midas, Chief of Surgery. I understand it was you who brought the president in? You're a brave man."

"How is she?" Robin cuts to the chase, what is it about doctors prolonging his agony by making him wait so long for news?!

"I'm afraid President Mills is in a delicate state. She has a grade four liver injury, and there's no exit wound, meaning the bullet is still lodged in the tissue. Based on preliminary imaging tests, we estimate that about forty percent of her hepatic lobe has been damaged."

"What the hell does that mean?!" he spits back.

"It means she has to go into surgery, we have to remove the bullet from the hepatic lo -the right side of her liver tissue-," he rephrases when he sees Robin's frustrated frown, "and repair as much of the damage as we can to help her liver heal."

"Then what are you waiting for? Go! Save her," he orders, his hands trembling.

"She's being prepped for the O/R as we speak, and I promise you we'll try our best, but you have to understand, this is a complicated surgery... she's lost a lot of blood. She might not make it."

"Excuse me?!" Mal snaps, and when the doctor clarifies, Robin feels as if his heart is being split in two.

"I'm sorry, Agents, but we must prepare for the worst."


	12. Chapter 12

_**Just trust me, okay?**_

* * *

Images drift in and out of focus.

Dense, dark clouds loom as he stares at flowers, white and fragrant, at passersby dressed in black, all walking ahead towards the freshly cut grass of the cemetery. He feels something in his arm, but not the slight discomfort he's come to associate with his wound, more like a weight that drags him down, and when he turns he realizes he's one of the six people holding the coffin, and those dark clouds just get darker, threatening to take him. And he wants them to, begs them to do it, in fact.

He can't, he knows he can't, he has to stay strong, has to _stay_ , because Roland cannot go through anymore loss, he can't. But oh, how Robin wants to go, how he wants to just let the darkness swallow him whole and drag him to wherever they've taken his love, because every time he thinks about life without her, every time he so much as tries to conjure up an image of his world without her in it, the pain overwhelms and lashes and stings, his need to scream overpowering his senses.

Words are said, which ones, he doesn't know, but they're said, and everyone solemnly nods along with them as the coffin is lowered into a hole in the ground, with elaborate flower arrangements placed on top of the smooth wooden surface.

He loses focus again, and sees someone in scrubs walk past him, their steps quiet, yet echoing in the empty hall, sterile smells and uncomfortable furniture standing where Regina's coffin had been, and then it's the flowers again, and the people, and the words, and then someone shakes his shoulder gently, murmurs something he doesn't care enough to grasp, and that small shake comes back a bit firmer, tethering him to the land of the living.

A near-yell of his name startles him out of his trance, and he takes in his surroundings, trying to hold on to that thread of reality. He's still at the hospital, he realizes, and everything he just saw wasn't real, just a figment of his imagination, no doubt brought on by his exhausted physical state and overtired mind.

"You dozed off. I think you were having a nightmare," Mal's soft voice tells him, and he turns to stare at her, still overwhelmed by his ghastly dream.

"The worst," he tells her, because he has no idea what else to say, then thanks her for waking him, gulps down the stale coffee she pushes into his hands, and goes back to waiting, his eyes wide open and fully alert this time.

It's not that much of an improvement.

* * *

When Marian died, it all happened fast. One minute he was kissing her head as their newborn son was placed in her arms and the next, Robin was being dragged out of the room while his wife faded from existence. He still remembers the doctors' faces, the pity in their eyes as they explained about the internal bleeding, the haunting, uninterrupted beep of the machine when her heart no longer beat. It was harrowing, and it hurt like hell, but it was fast.

Regina's operation is a whole new level of anguish.

They've been sitting in the waiting room for three hours, and he is unable to keep calm anymore, rising to his feet and fuming, kicking the empty chair that dares block his path while he paces back and forth. He can't take this, this waiting and hanging around without a clue as to how she's doing, he just can't.

He wants to feel useful, wants to _help_ , but doesn't really know how. From what Mal's told him, everything is already under control. David's been sworn in as acting President while Regina's life hangs in the balance, as is the customary protocol and constitutional mandate. Isaac Heller is dead, taken out by John during the shooting (Robin is glad for it, seeing as it has been confirmed it was Heller who messed with the bulletproof padding on Regina's vest), Sidney is in custody, awaiting transportation back to D.C., where he'll be charged and sentenced. All loose ends have been tied, even his absence from David's security team has been addressed and remedied by the appointment of another agent as temporary replacement, and it seems all Robin has left to do is sit here and worry.

It's torture.

He's just about ready to tear his own hair out when Mal's phone rings. She answers quickly, and her exclamation of _Are you kidding me?!_ after hearing whoever's on the other end has him looking at her curiously, until she hangs up, exasperated. When her eyes find his, her shoulders slump, and she takes a deep breath to steady her tone when she tells him what's happened.

"Glass escaped."

"What?!"

"Apparently he attacked Emma and slipped away. They're after him now. He hit her pretty hard on the head, but she's conscious and responsive, they're bringing her here. She said Glass is still in his handcuffs and his foot is badly injured, which means he won't go far, he must be hiding out near the crime scene."

She says it like it's some remote area and they're sequestered far away from it, but that's not the case. The crime scene is barely a block away. And something about having Sidney in such close proximity triggers him, unleashes his anger.

Robin sees red.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Mal calls after him when he grabs her gun from the coffee table and makes for the door.

"Crime scene, where else?!" Robin barks back, shoving the weapon in the back of his trousers, covering it up with his shirt as he walks purposefully out of the waiting room.

"Not without me, you're not!" she replies, following him.

"Stand down, Agent Feuer," he orders, "this is my task."

"And what exactly are you going to do when you get there?" she asks, and Robin turns back to look at her, stares into her eyes without a single ounce of concern or remorse and answers her question in a menacing tone.

"I'm going to find that son of a bitch, and I'm going to make him pay for what he's done to the woman I love."

He stalks off after that, not bothering to send her back inside when she ignores his command and follows him to the back exit.

"Fine, but you're not doing it alone," she declares when they reach the gate, turning to address the swarm of young agents stationed there.

"Keep an eye out on the perimeter, boys, Glass might be close," Mal says as they make their way through, and out of the corner of his eye, Robin sees her take a gun offered by one of the lads when they notice she isn't carrying one, her own tucked away in Robin's clothes, hidden from sight.

They walk fast, and check every nook and cranny of the crime scene, Robin's stomach twisting at the sight of Regina's blood still on the stage floor. There are agents walking around with their weapons raised, searching the area as well, and he nods at them, thinks little of the strange looks they give him, and continues walking, tracking down the pathetic sod responsible for all this.

He discovers a trail of blood near a store window, a splatter of it on the floor that continues in an erratic pattern down the street. It's a far enough distance from the throng of agents searching the stage area, which is good, this will be quick, just the two of them against Sidney, with no one to stand in the way.

"Emma said his foot was injured, did she not?" he asks Mal as quietly as possible, and she nods, knowing exactly what he's thinking as they follow the path, guns at the ready.

They find him in an alley, hiding behind overflowing trash cans like the rat that he is. Robin drags him out by the collar of his shirt, and then lands a punch on his face, making his nose bleed as he whimpers from the pain. He throws another punch then, and another, and another, until he's blinded by rage and all he can do is keep hitting the sack of shit now begging him to stop.

He breaks his nose, steps forcefully on his injured foot and breaks that, too, taking a sick satisfaction in feeling the bones crack under his boot, next he hits his stomach, his ribs, probably bruising one or two in his ire, he can't be sure, all he knows is this man must suffer, and the more he does so at his hands, the better.

"Why?!" he roars at him, and Sidney seems to find whatever is left of his pride, stares up at Robin despondently and spits out some blood before he answers.

"I _made_ her! She wouldn't have won that election if it wasn't for me! And after everything, she went behind my back and betrayed me!"

"Betrayed you? You tried to blackmail her into sleeping with you!"

"I was claiming what was mine," Sidney sneers. "All that time dedicating my life to her, and she rejects me just like that?! I told her, I told her she'd regret it. I know you have a crush on her, that's why you're here, isn't it? Oh, but if she's not mine, she won't be anyone else's... not even yours. I've made sure of that."

His eyes are set on Robin, disdain clear on his face.

"Tell me about Percival and Heller, how did you get them to help you? Are they part of another conspiracy? Answer me!" Mal thunders, and Sidney only scoffs, bloody spit spewing from his mouth and clinging to his chin.

"I paid young Percy good money to get the job done. He was so conflicted, poor idiot, but his mother's sick, he needed the cash for her bills, so in the end he couldn't refuse. Heller was even easier."

"What did you offer him?" Robin asks through gritted teeth, wanting to make sense of everything before he goes back to using the man as a punching bag.

"Why, your job, of course. I told him if he helped me, he could apprehend Percy after it was over, be seen as a hero by everyone and be promoted in your stead. Poor schmuck was so thirsty for it, he agreed right away. When Percival failed, Heller agreed to tamper with Regina's vest, and to make sure I got away safely after I took my shot, apprehend some other culprit so that he could still get the promotion."

He's breathless, and Robin can see that it pains him to speak, a direct result from the thorough beating he's just given him, but despite that, Sidney remains casual, complacent, his eyes cold and calculating.

"Useless pawns, the both of them, couldn't even do their jobs right. I should've put a bullet in them…" he trails off, taking in Robin's reaction with a smug smile as he adds, "just like I did with Regina."

"You bastard!" Robin exclaims, landing a kick against his stomach and watching as he struggles to breathe.

"I was in the crowd, you know," he wheezes, satisfaction etched in his tone as he gloats, "Isaac gave me a gun once I was inside, and then I hid amongst all those adoring fans, revealed myself at the very last minute, just so she could see my face when I killed her."

Robin's had enough, and his fists connect with the man's jaw, his shoulder, his ribs again, making him bleed more and more, and when his breath is labored from the effort of landing punches, his injured arm screaming at the pain of the physical effort, he takes Mal's gun from his waistband and aims it at him.

"You thought you'd get away easily? That I wouldn't find you and make you pay for this?!" he thunders, prepared to take his revenge.

He hears Mal's phone ring, hears her warning for him to wait as she picks up the call and walks a few steps away, and his arm is hurting a lot worse now, shaking, but it doesn't matter, the other one is steady, hand still grasped firmly around the .35 millimeter he's pointing at Sidney, ready to fire.

He's not worth the trouble, Robin knows, not worth the legal ramifications of what he's about to do, and he hesitates for a moment, that blasted code of honor he's lived by since he joined this line of work rearing its head inside him, warning him not to go through with this, but then he shakes his head, his mind suddenly at war with itself. This is the right thing to do, is it not? After all Sidney's done, does he really deserve the mercy of a trial?

The answer is _No, he doesn't_ , and the darker parts of him are gloating, dancing, telling him that all he needs to do is pull the trigger, and then he'll never have to worry about Sidney again.

"Robin," Mal's low voice distracts him from his internal struggle, "that was the hospital."

He turns, everything else forgotten, dread curling around his heart in tight, dark tendrils as he asks, "Is she...?"

And then his blonde colleague smiles, eyes welling up with tears as she informs him, "She's out of surgery, she's going to be okay."

He thinks he hears Sidney's cry of _No!_ behind him, but can't really discern it, Mal's message ringing too loud in his ears to allow anything else to filter through.

Suddenly it's like life has been breathed back into him, like he can finally take a big gulp of air after almost drowning. His relief erases everything, every other feeling and urge, and his grip on the gun loosens, relaxes as he brings it down by his side.

"Dr. Midas says she should be waking up soon. Go to her," Mal says in an uncharacteristically kind tone, "she needs you, and I think you need her, too."

And he does, he needs Regina, needs to be with her when she wakes, so he starts moving back the way they came, and he's still so stunned at the news that his steps are slow, hesitant, as if he's waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It's as he reaches the corner of the alley not ten steps away that he hears the shot, followed by a complete stillness in the air, brought on by the lack of heavy breathing and agonized groaning, and he turns to find Sidney on the ground, a bullet in his head, his eyes open and lifeless.

Mal stands before him, gun still pointed at the body on the floor, and Robin stares at her, dumbfounded.

"Woops," she says in a bored tone.

"Mal..." he starts, but doesn't really know what to say. He's not about to lecture her for doing what he'd been gearing up to do just minutes before.

"By now, half the world has probably seen footage of you kissing an almost unconscious president up on that stage, if you took the shot, your motives would be questioned, and I don't have time to testify at a trial on whether you killed Glass because it was your duty or because you wanted revenge after what he did."

"But..." he tries again, and promptly shuts up when she speaks over him.

"Listen, I know you wanted him gone, but you're a good man, loathe as I am to admit it," she tells him, rolling her eyes a bit. "You shouldn't sacrifice your humanity. Not for him."

"And you?" he asks, and all she does is laugh.

"No need to worry about me, dear. I'm a scary dragon bitch, remember? I didn't earn that name for nothing. Besides," she adds, taking her gun from him and placing it in Sidney's limp hand, "he took your weapon and came at us... it was self defense."

Other agents and several reporters start showing up, alerted to their location by the sound of the gunshot, and it's a testament to Mal's reputation that, while the scene before them could lend itself to a number of interpretations, no one even thinks to question her tale. She's branded a hero, colleagues giving her congratulatory pats on the back, commending her on neutralizing the threat, and then the police arrive, shooing away the press, the coroner heading straight for the body while a few of the officers remain just behind to take statements.

Mal explains the event again, puts on a very convincing charade of duty-bound warrior as she tells them of Sidney, how she heard him confess everything to Robin when she arrived on the scene, how when Robin turned to address her, Sidney took his gun and aimed it at them, and she did the only thing she could, took him out before he could cause any more damage. She pairs every word to a nonchalant, no-nonsense sort of tone that only lends more truth to her statement, has every officer around them in awe of her casual heroics.

"So you don't regret taking his life, then," one of the policemen ventures, sounding a little scared of her.

"He tried to kill the President of the United States," she says firmly, "and then attempted to kill me and my colleague instead of surrendering. No, Officer Humbert, I don't regret it one bit. Now, if you'll excuse me, President Mills should be waking up soon, I'd like to be there to tell her that this nightmare is over."

No one questions her further, if anything, her brutally honest words make the men around her admire her even more, and finally, after helping cordon off the area, she and Robin are free to go.

Young Dr. Midas greets them at the back door of the hospital a few minutes later, notifies them that _the president is being moved to a suite, if you'd like to come and see her_ , and it's only as they walk through the main hall towards the elevators that Robin sees the swarm of reporters and photographers just outside the main gates, John and the agents flanking him doing their best to keep them from entering the ER. Gold is nowhere to be seen, having run off at some point during the shooting and leaving them to handle the press on their own. The sight of reporters almost overwhelming the already shaken agents at the ER doors gives Mal pause in her stride beside him.

"I'll handle the gossip junkies," she says then, her eyes still set on the media frenzy, "you go, she'll want to see you when she wakes."

He gives her a single, grateful nod, watches her walk purposefully towards the chaotic scene ahead, and then he turns, following Dr. Midas.

They've placed Regina in the near-empty sixth floor, she informs him, and when the elevator doors open after they reach it, he finds himself thanking her for securing the president a private place to heal, away from obnoxious cameras and nagging questions. She acknowledges his gratitude, and then leads him to her.

There's four agents positioned at the elevator doors, three more handling each of the two staircases, five others stationed by the windows. Only a couple of nurses are meandering the halls, the distant beeping of a machine the only sound that adds to their quiet footfalls as he and Dr. Midas move towards a white door in the far corner, and Robin feels his tense muscles relaxing when he's finally able to see Regina, that relief from earlier flooding back into him tenfold.

Her eyes are closed, breaths deep as she sleeps on sterile white sheets, two of them covering her up to her chest under a beige knit blanket, her dark locks fanned out on the pillow while a bag of clear liquid hangs from the IV stand, dripping slowly into the thin plastic tube connected to the crook of her elbow.

"She'll be under for another hour or so, but I'm sure she'll be happy to see you when she wakes up," the young doctor tells him, giving him a strange look he can't quite decipher. He's about to question what she means, certain it has something to do with that video footage Mal told him is all over the media, but she doesn't let him, starts rambling medical nonsense at him.

"You do know I've no idea what you just said, right?" he asks, and she smiles.

"Recovery will be a bit slow, and she'll need absolute bed rest for a while, but she'll be fine," she explains in layman's terms, "I heard my father talking to your colleague, Agent Tall, Blonde and Scary?"

"Agent Feuer," Robin supplies with a laugh.

"Right, he told her they should be able to fly the president home in about two weeks. Until then we'll keep a close eye on her."

He thanks her again, standing awkwardly by the door of the room, desperate to be close to Regina and not knowing how to get the doctor to leave.

"Dr. Midas, would you mind helping me downstairs? The press is asking for medical details and your father's busy performing another surgery," a voice interrupts, and Robin whips his head around to find Mal standing by the entryway, arms crossed as she leans against the wall.

"Oh, um, sure," the doctor says, turning to look at Robin with wide eyes. He grins, amused at how frightened she seems of Mal, but then, he supposes, everyone must be at least a little afraid of The Dragon, and after what she's done today, he understands why.

"It'll be fine, she's more bark than bite, don't worry," he consoles in a whisper, and it's a lie, of course, but it helps Dr. Midas calm down, and she nods, sighs as she steels herself for what's coming.

"You go right in, Agent Locksley," she tells him as she joins Mal by the elevator doors, "and tell President Mills we're taking very good care of her."

"I will," he promises, and watches them go before he turns back to the room, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

He approaches her bed slowly, tears building in his eyes as he takes her in fully. She looks so small, his Regina, so weak and pale, hooked up to IVs and machines that make annoying, high-pitched noises, but the beeping of the monitors, irksome as they are, also provide comfort, a reminder that she's alive, that she'll recover, and once again he is overcome with relief, instantly dragging the nearby chair to the bed and sitting there, holding her hand tentatively, thumb caressing her knuckles as he brings it to his lips and lands a kiss near her wrist.

"I was thinking," he starts speaking, his tone low and raspy, "about our first night together, do you remember that?"

She doesn't wake, doesn't react, but he knows she can hear him, so he continues.

"I wasn't planning on kissing you, you know? But you were so frustrated, and you looked so unbelievably beautiful, angry as you were. I was so enamored by you that I couldn't stay away no matter how hard I tried. I still can't. But back then, oh, was I mortified by what I'd done."

Memories rush in as he talks, momentary flashbacks to that night that had changed everything. He'd been so nervous after kissing her, had apologized and hurriedly tried to find a way to make the whole thing go away.

"But then you said something to me, when I told you how sorry I was. You said you weren't, and then you kissed me. I don't think I've ever been so shocked," he chuckles, remembering, "it was one of the best days of my life."

He cries then, head bowing and burrowing against the blanket that covers her, his hand still grasping hers as he lets the tears fall, draining the panic and fatigue from the last few hours, adrenaline abandoning his body as he finally allows himself to feel the crippling despair he'd been trying to push down.

"God, I felt so helpless when I saw you fall, I..." his whisper dies halfway through, because there's not much more to say, no other way to console himself than with the texture of her skin, smooth and familiar under his fingertips, her heartbeat marked by the steady beep, beep, beep of the machine beside them.

Exhaustion overwhelms him after a few minutes, and he dozes off before he can help it, struggles for the next while between staying awake and succumbing to the need for sleep. He doesn't realize a full hour has passed until he's brought back from light slumber by the brush of fingers against his scalp.

"Hi," Regina breathes when he looks up and finds her there, her voice scratchy, eyes open and glassy as they stare at him.

"Hi," he whispers, and all of a sudden his barely-regained composure is gone, sobs wracking his body as he trembles and tightens his grip on her hand, kissing it over and over.

"I'm so sorry," he croaks, "I should've stopped it, I should've-"

"Robin," she whispers pleadingly, slowly moving her hand up to cup his cheek, "this wasn't your fault."

"I should've protected you," he insists, and Regina shakes her head lazily, a sad smile gracing her tired face.

"I'll be fine, babe," she says drowsily, and it's ironic, how she's the one reassuring him, when not long ago he was doing the same, in very similar circumstances.

"I almost lost you," he chokes out.

"But you didn't," she reiterates, the pad of her thumb wiping away the last of his tears.

Robin rises from the chair, moves carefully as he cradles her face in his hand and presses his lips to hers, feeling her own tears start to make their way down her cheeks as she returns the kiss, her hand grasping below his wrist. He doesn't move to deepen it, but lingers there, thanking his lucky stars that he gets to feel this again, the softness of her mouth as it remains sweetly latched onto his.

As they part, he brings their foreheads together, nuzzles her cheek with his nose, grounding himself in the feel of her, alive and safe in his hold.

"Don't _ever_ scare me like that again," he whispers brokenly, and Regina half-sobs, half-laughs at his request, nods against him, nudging his nose with hers as she does.

"I promise," she breathes against his lips, brushing her own against them again for a brief moment.

When he sinks back into the chair, she's smiling, her hand holding onto his, and he brings it to his lips again, kisses her knuckles over and over. There are no more words to be exchanged, only love and reassurances, communicated through touch and calming breaths.

He stays with her for the next five hours while agents, doctors, nurses and police all come and go from the room, doesn't leave her side even when everyone (including Regina herself) insists that he take a few minutes, grab something to eat, get his wound looked at, take some medication for the pain. He refuses to do any of those things, only takes his eyes off of her when he calls Washington to ask after Roland, pacing slowly around the space of the room while Mal comes in and takes his place on the chair.

Ashley's back at the White House, picks up the phone in her and Roland's room, explains to Robin how she and Belle cut their trip short and flew back home as soon as they saw the news.

"Roland's okay. A little shaken up, but okay," she reports without him even having to ask.

"He didn't see it happen on TV, did he?!" Robin inquires, alarmed at the mere idea.

"No, no, he was in the kitchens with Chef Lucas, trying some desserts, I'm the one who told him. He got really angry because his fairies didn't protect President Mills like he thought they would, but he calmed down after Ruby and I explained that the can't always control these things."

"My poor boy," Robin murmurs into the phone, mindful of a worried Regina a few steps away, glancing at him every few seconds while she talks to Mal, waiting to hear from news of home.

"The news said it looked like President Mills wasn't going to make it, and he was very scared for a few minutes, but we had a private meeting with Vice President Nolan where he explained everything and reassured him that you and Agent Feuer got the bad guys, and that there was no danger anymore. I think being included like that helped a lot, made him feel better."

"Guess I owe David one, then," Robin states, grateful to the man for being so mindful of his son.

"He said you'd say that, and told me to ask you for new golf clubs on his behalf," she chuckles on the other end, and Robin laughs.

"Done," he agrees, and then quiets when Ashley asks after Regina.

"Recovery will take a while, but she'll be alright," he starts to explain, then hears excited shouting in the background that can only be coming from his son.

"The Presidential Best Friend wants to know if he can talk to his Daddy," Ashley prattles promptly, just after Roland recites the very same words.

"Sure, put him on," he agrees, greeting his son with a boisterous "My boy!" when his tiny voice breathes an impatient _Daddy?!_ into the phone.

"I'm here, son, I'm okay, so is Regina."

"Ashley and Mr. David said a bad guy tried to kill her," his darling boy mumbles, and Robin can almost see his pouty lips as he hears him speak.

"Roland, listen to me," he tells him clearly, "everything is fine. Yes, Regina was hurt by a bad man, but the doctors fixed her right up, and the bad man is gone."

"Are you sure?" his son asks.

"Completely sure," he insists, trying to sound cheerful as he adds, "we'll be home in a few days and then you can take care of her while she recovers, okay?"

"Is that Roland?" Regina asks from her bed, suddenly catching the words in his conversation. Robin nods quietly, still listening to his son rambling adorably on the other end.

"Please let me talk to him," she begs, extending her free hand.

"Hang on, son, there's someone here who wants to speak to you," he alerts, then passes the phone to Regina.

"Hi, sweetheart," she gasps, her eyes welling up with tears as she tells him, "it's okay, I'm okay. Oh, honey, don't cry, I'm here, I'm fine."

Mal chooses that moment to rise from the chair, nodding towards the door to ask Robin to follow.

"I filled her in while you were on the phone," she starts, taking a deep breath before she admits, "I told her the truth... about Glass, about what I did."

"Okay," he says casually.

"You're not mad?"

"Why would I be?"

"Because we agreed that we'd stick to the self defense story? But if you thought that included Regina, you're sorely mistaken, I won't lie to my friend."

"I wouldn't expect you to," he clarifies, "I'm glad you told her."

"Good," The Dragon replies, "not that I need your validation, but it's nice to know you care about her enough to be truthful."

"I _love_ her, Mal, I would never keep something like that from her, and I know you wouldn't, either."

"Good," she says again, "now, I'm going downstairs to see how Agent Swan is handling everything," she adds just as Regina murmurs a loving goodbye to Roland and hangs up the phone, "have a few more minutes to yourselves, I'll make sure no one disturbs you."

"Thank you," Robin tells her.

"Yeah, yeah, just don't let me catch you having sex on that hospital bed," she warns as she walks away, closing the door behind her.

"She's a piece of work, isn't she?" he remarks, and Regina just smirks, crooks a finger to beckon him closer and has him lie on the bed beside her, his arms wrapped over whatever parts of her body can be touched without disturbing her wound. She snuggles as close as she can, burying her nose in his neck and breathing deeply, falling asleep almost instantly.

* * *

Days pass. The hospital staff has closed down the facilities from the fifth floor and up, to avoid unwanted guests and patients not-so-unknowingly walking into the president's room. Regina's injury is healing up quite well, routine post-op check-ups and tests showing that her body is rebuilding her damaged tissue splendidly.

Regina herself, however, is not doing so well. Apparently the fact that she cannot eat is taking a bigger toll on her than they would've expected. She's cranky, watches cooking shows and looks wistfully at the dishes presented on the screen, then snaps at anyone who dares comment on them, and then she spends the next few minutes staring daggers at the catheter currently feeding her.

Robin finds it hilariously endearing, and doesn't hesitate to tell her how cute he finds her when she's "hangry", to which Regina only rolls her eyes and huffs as she browses the telly for more cooking shows to watch.

Last week, Kathryn (she's around so often that now they're all on a first name basis with the younger Dr. Midas) gave her approval for some liquids to start forming part of her diet, and since then, Robin has been trying to find Regina the tastiest broths and juices, so that she feels a bit less miserable about her current condition. As of yesterday, pureed foods have also been allowed, but keeping to the rule of mashed ingredients means dealing with mushy vegetables and fruits that are bland and watery no matter how tasty they might be when prepared in other ways, and so his beloved is left unsatisfied and irritated.

Their only source of relief is that when they hit the fifteen day mark, senior Dr. Midas finally signs her release, and Regina is flown home on the hospital's air ambulance, with Robin as her only companion besides the paramedics, while Emma, John and Mal fly just behind on Marine One, the rest of the Secret Service agents and other staff members making their way back by land, ready to get home and enjoy the day off that Emma has so graciously given them after almost two weeks of constant vigilance, wrestling photogs and maintaining a secure perimeter against hundreds of concerned citizens and fanatics camping outside the hospital gates.

Regina looks a little nervous while they're on the air, despite the many reassurances from the paramedics around her, and Robin moves to hold her hand and comfort her, pauses just shy of touching her fingers, remembering their audience, and is shocked when it's her who seeks him out, taking his hand in her own bringing their entwined fingers to lay beside her on the gurney, squeezing tight as she takes a deep breath. Robin stares at her with wide eyes, wonders if maybe she's under some form of sedative that impairs her sense of self-preservation.

To his surprise, she's smiling, ignoring the incredulous looks from the medical staff and running her thumb over his.

She winks then, and he understands at last, revels in how freeing it feels to know that she no longer seems concerned with keeping their relationship hidden, and then brings their joint hands to his lips to press a kiss on her fingers, then another on her palm when she untangles and moves to cradle his cheek, and if he were paying attention, he'd notice the disbelieving sighs and knowing smirks the paramedics are throwing at them, but as it is, he's too caught up in Regina, in her eyes, so brown and vibrant as her hand drags back down to hold his.

Not once does she stop smiling.


	13. Chapter 13

**_Here we are, guys! Last one! You'll get a short epilogue in the next few days, but this is the last official chapter of Madam President!_**

 ** _Thank you so much for the support, all your reviews, the flailing and the yelling and the all-caps live tweeting, it's made me love writing this story even more._**

 ** _Hope you like the ending!_**

* * *

The first thing Regina does when arriving at the White House is fire Mr. Gold, then spends her afternoon lying in bed and groggily discussing possible replacement candidates with Ursula. Finally, they settle on the young woman from her last press conference, the one who'd asked after Robin's health, an up-and-coming political journalist named Elsa Frost.

Gold puts up a fuss, but Regina remains resolute and imposing even while convalescing, throws him a look of disappointment and alludes to how he ran back to Washington immediately after the events in Philadelphia, leaving Mal to tend to the reporters on top of dealing with a threat, and the man hangs his head in shame when reminded of his cowardice, stops protesting his dismissal, and politely retires, much to Robin's surprise.

Elsa takes to her job quite well despite her short experience in the field, is surprisingly efficient and deals with the never ending appetite of the White House press corps like a pro, providing Regina some much needed relief. They discuss strategies together, settle on promising the media a full account of everything from the president herself once she's given the all-clear by her doctors, and after they plan that, Regina requests not to be bothered with press-related duties until then.

The days that follow are the closest thing to a vacation Robin's ever had.

He's taken a couple weeks off, Regina is in recovery, the investigation has been closed, and all media issues are being handled by Elsa, so for now, they have time to relax, to heal, time for mornings cuddling in bed and nights of hot tea and comedy shows, casual kisses on cheeks and temples accompanying their soft laughter over the shenanigans on the screen...

The cat's out of the bag now (footage of him holding and desperately kissing a wounded Regina on the abandoned stage is all over the news), so there's really no point in pretending anymore, and they're both very okay with that.

He'd been worried at first, though, because being openly affectionate meant his son would find out about their relationship, and that made him nervous. The boy may adore Regina, but he's had to deal with a lot of changes and life-altering experiences already, so Robin hadn't been sure he'd take it well. But then Roland had walked in on them the other night, just as Regina was kissing Robin sweetly on the lips, and to their surprise, his son hadn't even acknowledged it, simply continued on his way to the bedside table, where he'd deposited the mug full of tea he'd brought for her before climbing on the bed to check on her wound.

His reaction comes a few days later, when Robin is just about to go inside the room with the glass of water Regina requested, and hangs by the door when he hears his son speaking to her in hushed tones.

"Regina, are you going to be my mommy?" he asks, and Robin can see him, face passive, his bottom lip jutting out as he stares at the TV remote in his hand, fingernail picking at the buttons.

"Would you like me to be?" is Regina's response, and the boy stops his fiddling and looks at her, the neckline of his Captain America PJs a little too wide on him, stretched as it is by continuous use.

"I asked Ashley what it was like to have a mommy, and she told me all these things mommies do, like take care of you when you're sick and play with you and take you to the park and watch movies and stuff."

"Okay?" Regina ventures, and Robin can't see her from where he is, but she sounds so nervous, he can picture her biting her lip and drumming her fingers against the mattress.

"We already do all of that, so..." Roland shrugs then, his tone casual as he adds, "I think you've always been my mommy, but I wanted to ask you to be sure."

Robin hears her sniffle as she tells him, "Roland, I love you so much."

"More than daddy?" his son asks, and Regina chuckles a bit.

"It's different kinds of love, sweetheart."

"But you love daddy, too, right?"

"Yes, very much," she tells him, and Robin feels a warmth spread through his chest at the admission. She's said it to him plenty of times since the first, but he doesn't tire of it, delights in the words every single time she says them.

He chooses that moment to walk in, handing Regina the glass of water before he ruffles his son's hair and asks him what they're up to, playing dumb when Roland excitedly explains his conversation with Regina. She blushes, looks a little nervous at the whole idea now that he's in the room, and Robin can tell exactly why she's so apprehensive.

It's always been important to him that his son knows where he came from, and he's made sure that Roland is fully aware of Marian, who she was, what she did, how they met, her little quirks and loving words, all of it.

He's shown the boy videos, pictures, mementos, everything he can think of to keep her memory alive, to make sure his son always knows that he had a mother who loved him, even if he can't remember her. He'd brought Marian's ashes with him when he first moved to Maine, had found a quiet spot near the Marshall Point lighthouse in Port Clyde, and scattered them over the ocean, watching them swirl in the wind before finally settling into the deep blue, and as his son grew up, Robin had started a tradition, where he'd take Roland to that same spot a few days after his birthday, so they could talk to his mama and tell her everything they were going to do in his new year of life.

Regina knows all this, even accompanied them to Port Clyde last year, so it's no surprise that she looks so hesitant, she must probably think it's wrong for Roland to refer to her as his mother, but Robin can't fault him for it. She's been his mother from the start, even before he ever fell in love with her, she was there, raising his son right alongside him. It's only logical that Roland considers her more than just his best friend.

"Are you mad?" she asks quietly when he sits next to her, and Robin smiles, shakes his head slowly and kisses her forehead tenderly when Roland is busy punching a pillow into a more comfortable shape.

"Not at all," he says, making sure she can hear the honesty in his tone, and then Roland turns back with a gasp, addresses his father.

"Daddy! We should go visit mama, so we can tell her we're marrying Regina!"

"Marrying?" Regina asks, frowning in confusion and then looking at him in anticipation.

"Well, aren't you and daddy gonna get married? So you can be my mommy official?"

"Officially," she corrects, "and yes, someday, maybe, but Roland, it doesn't matter if we're married or not, I'm always going to be your mommy, if that's what you want me to be."

"I want you to be! I really do!" he exclaims excitedly, making Regina's eyes fill up with tears of joy, tears Robin is about to wipe away with his thumbs when he remembers something.

"Have you brushed your teeth yet, young man?" he asks his son, who smiles sheepishly but doesn't reply, and Robin would know the meaning behind that too-innocent smile from a mile away.

"Go, brush your teeth, you don't want smelly breath before you go to sleep, do you?"

"No, daddy," he shakes his head shyly, then starts to walk towards the bathroom, stopping just short of the door and turning back to them, nose scrunching up in doubt.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Regina prods, noticing the same thing.

"If you turn into my mommy, can we still be best friends?" his boy asks, looking worried for a moment. Regina laughs through her tears.

"Of course," she promises, "always and forever."

"Awesome!" Roland cheers, and then dutifully heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Robin is left alone in the bed with Regina, whose smile could rival the sun itself as she stares up at him through watery eyes.

"I'm his mommy," she whispers, like she's just won the lottery, her voice breaking as she sniffles. Robin grins at her, cups her cheek in his hand and leans in close, planting a tiny kiss on her lips, tasting the salt water of her tears as they fall down her face.

"Yes, you are."

The rest of their night is spent with giggles and Disney movies, and when Roland falls asleep on Regina's shoulder, Robin watches her drop a loving kiss into the mass of curls atop his - _their_ \- son's head, murmuring a soft _Goodnight, sweetheart_ before he picks the boy up and carries him back to his room.

* * *

After a week of mashed veggies and other pureed solids, Whale gives permission for Regina to begin eating actual meals again.

"Start with something light," he tells her. "You're still recovering from a major surgery, you have to ease into it, let your stomach get used to digesting proper food again."

She nods, and happily munches down the salad Chef Lucas prepares her for lunch, chewing slowly and moaning at the taste. Robin never thought he'd be aroused by watching her eat baby spinach, but the sounds she's making are unbelievably enticing, and he struggles to remind himself that sex is out of the question until she's fully healed.

The salad doesn't settle too well, though, and Regina spends her afternoon squeamish and grumpy, but the food sits a little easier on her stomach the next day, and the next, until bit by bit, she seems to regain her basic bodily functions. She still keeps to light food, things that won't make her too sick if they don't settle right, but she's looking a lot better, her skin has regained color, her cheeks are less hollow, and her mood has improved considerably now that she's allowed to eat. Robin spends his days by her side, making sure she's comfortable, hovering and wanting to give her every comfort, not wanting her to move a muscle while she heals, sweetly begging her to stay put and not leave the bed except for bathroom breaks. He makes Whale teach him how to properly tend to her, so that no more doctors or nurses are required —she's been a good sport, his Regina, but he knows her too well, can easily see the almost imperceptible scrunch of her nose when the nurses come into the room to check on her, the slight narrowing of her eyes when Whale has her remove her shirt to assess her progress, and he's loathe to have her be uncomfortable on top of injured, so he begs the doctor to just let him handle it—, and after that, Robin spends his mornings removing old bandages to replace with fresh ones, cleaning the wound, revering the scar left there with the pads of his fingers, and only stops when she flinches and squirms away from him, adorably annoyed at his coddling.

Whale and Dr. Midas (who's been flown in with his daughter to check on the patient) both approve for her to be up and about some days later, keep a close eye on her just in case, and at first she's a bit wobbly after being in bed for so long, her body still recovering, and so she's a little weak when she tries to take on her duties again. The first two days, she tires quickly, falls asleep in her comfy leather chair in the oval office, and it's Robin who comes in and lifts her, carries her back to her room, where he watches her sleep for a few minutes and runs fingers through her hair, whispering words of affection that seem to soothe her when her rest is troubled.

* * *

It's been three weeks, and the White House is assaulted by a sort of collective silence, brought on by anticipation and nerves. It happened when that DEA agent had been kidnapped, then again when they had to do damage control after the Gaston ordeal, and it is happening now, on the eve of Regina's first press conference after the shooting.

Elsa calls it 'the calm before the storm', and for the first time since he joined White House staff, Robin does not know what to expect.

Regina takes the podium at exactly 3pm on a Friday afternoon in mid-June, the entire White House press corps watching as she walks from the curtain to the podium, steps slow and measured so as not to flinch when the movement pulls at her newly patched skin. She's in a dress today, black and elegant, with zippers on each side of her waist to adorn the pockets, a white blazer over her shoulders. Her hair is tied back in a low, stylish ponytail, and she hasn't worked up to wearing heels again just yet, so she wears flats instead, black and simple, her frame made shorter because of them.

"Good afternoon," she says to the journalists, who are all quiet, for once, admiring her as she stands before them, head held high and amiable smile in place.

"About four weeks ago, I was shot by Sidney Glass. Some of you might remember Mr. Glass from my campaign, and from the scandal that followed my dismissing him from my service right after I won the election. I'm here to tell you that that man attempted to blackmail me into sleeping with him, and when that failed, he threatened to force himself on me."

There's a collective gasp at her confession, and Robin is proud of the way her voice holds steady despite the visible way in which she's trembling, her fists clenched at her sides as she steels herself to continue.

"Sidney Glass sought to hurt me, so I fired him, and because of that, he tried to kill me. As Elsa has so kindly told you all already, the shooting was orchestrated by Glass with the help of Agent Isaac Heller, who had been part of my security detail since I moved into the White House. Heller was shot and killed by the Secret Service during the chaos, and Glass was taken out by Federal Agent Mal Feuer, when he was about to shoot her in a desperate attempt to escape. I was lucky, and was saved by the collective efforts of the United States Secret Service and the doctors and staff at Frederick Memorial Hospital in Philadelphia. I stand before you now to thank you for allowing me these last few days to heal before facing the public, and to the citizens of the United States, I say thank you for the support you have shown me and the many well wishes I've been receiving since I was returned home from the hospital, it means more to me than I can ever say..."

She ends with some patriotic form of a goodbye, but that's when the floor opens to questions, and the quiet that had reigned over the room is now disrupted by loud exclamations of _Madam President! Madam President!_ coming from the reporters on the other side of the podium.

"August," she calls, and the man grabs his tiny notepad and pen, stands while his peers begrudgingly quiet down to allow him his turn.

"Ma'am, is it true you're in a relationship with Agent Robin Locksley?"

Well, then. That was fast.

They'd been expecting it, sure, but not this early in the Q&A. Still, Robin sees as Regina takes a deep breath, turns her head to look at him for a moment, and instead of the worried frown he'd been expecting to find etched on her features, there's a smile. Small, but tender, loving, _beautiful_.

"Yes, it's true," she says, clearly and loudly when she turns back to the mic, and the shouting from the rest of the reporters trying to get her attention grows louder.

"Yes?" she calls on a young woman sitting near the back.

"How long have you and Agent Locksley been in a relationship?" she asks, and that's when Robin feels a tap on his shoulder, turns to find Elsa there.

"I think it's better if you watch this from the green room, they'll assault you with questions, too, if we don't get you out of here, and we really don't want to give them more ammo."

He's reluctant to leave Regina, but does as he's told, not wanting to make her nervous or have any of the reporters try to get a comment from him. He's too nervous to be patient right now, and he's fairly certain he'll end up yelling something foul if any of these strangers so much as looks his way during this.

"That's not important," Regina answers the woman as Robin follows Elsa to the green room, hangs there to watch the entire thing unfold on the TV screen before him as the young Press Secretary takes her place by the curtain again.

Question after question is thrown at Regina, but none of them seem to be about the shooting, or about the culprits, or even about the gunshot that almost took her life. Instead, every query has to do with their relationship, the wording always aimed to manipulate a particular answer out of her.

"Did you hire him because you were interested in him?"

"No, that's not why I hired him."

"But you were interested in him..."

"I wasn't! Not back then," she attempts to explain.

"Did he know of your affections for him when he started working for you?"

"Have you been sharing a room here?"

"Did the White House staff know?"

"Do you intend to get married?"

"Is Agent Locksley going to be the First Gentleman?"

"Will you be having the wedding here at the White House?"

"Were you involved with Agent Locksley while your husband was still alive?"

It's that question that does it, and Regina rounds on the person it came from, the same annoying British redhead from last time, the one she had to shut down for trying to demean him and his fellow agents.

"That's enough," Regina says, trying to keep calm, but Robin can see her exasperation even through the TV, can see her breathing growing shallow as it becomes difficult for her to remain unperturbed, and he wants so badly to be there with her, but he doesn't know if showing up at her side will make things better or worse for them right now, he doesn't want her to appear weak in front of her audience, least of all on a national television broadcast, and he knows she wouldn't want that, either.

It takes her a while, a couple of minutes of Elsa holding her arm and whispering something in her ear, before Regina straightens, sighs deeply, and turns back to the reporters still awaiting her.

"It seems you are all more concerned about my love life than you are about my health, or about the new security measures the Secret Service is adding to its protocols, or about the strategic procedures that led to the elimination of a major domestic threat," she starts, and the side camera focuses briefly on a few guilty-looking faces amongst the reporters before she continues. "So fine, if you'd all rather turn from legitimate journalists into gossip reporters, then here's your exclusive: Your president has fallen in love with a Secret Service agent."

Robin's eyes widen, shocked as he is by her blatant revelation. She's already admitted that they're together, sure, but now she's telling the world that she's in love with him, and it stirs something in him, a warmth that makes him want to run out on stage and kiss her. But she's still talking, a heartfelt statement forming as she addresses all their questions in one single speech.

"My husband Daniel was a wonderful man, I loved him, and then I lost him, and I was devastated. I didn't think anything would ever be okay again..."

She trails off, allowing for a moment to let the information sink in, and Robin sees Elsa on the screen as well, standing off to the side just behind Regina, and shedding a tiny tear as she watches her press on with her speech.

"After two years of mourning, I found a second chance at happiness, and it made my world beautiful again. Robin Locksley is a wonderful man, and I feel lucky to love him, _to be loved_ _by him_. We kept it a secret all this time precisely because I knew that these would be the questions you'd ask, I knew it would be uncomfortable, and that we'd never hear the end of it. I wasn't ready or that. But enough has happened already, and I refuse to live in the shadows any longer. So yes, we are together, have been for a while now. We love and support each other, and will do so openly from now on. Make of that what you will."

He's too stunned by her words to even notice when she steps away from the stage, only realizes she's gone from the screen because suddenly Elsa is in her place, finishing her briefing before she dismisses the press, and Regina is now standing by the door of the green room, watery smile directed at him as she waits for him to catch up.

He's taking her in his arms in seconds, hugging her tightly and breathing her in as he whispers _I love you_ s against her neck, pulling back only when he hears a slight sniffle coming from her.

"I love you, too," she tells him, her hand on his cheek. "No more hiding."

* * *

It's her tongue that does it. The way it swirls over his nipple as they lie in bed together that night, the action accompanied by an evil little smirk that lets him know exactly what she's thinking.

"You're still recovering, love," he argues while shifting a bit, adjusting himself as best he can under the covers, but Regina is shaking her head before he can fully voice his protest.

"I feel fine, babe," she tells him, kissing him fiercely as if to prove her point, and it leaves him breathless, warm and flustered as he considers it.

"Come on," she insists, smirk still in place as her hand runs down his body under the covers and starts rubbing at his cock over his pajama bottoms, "we both know you want to."

And oh, boy, does he.

"If you feel even the slightest discomfort, you tell me, and we stop," he says, and his voice carries none of the fun teasing so evident in hers, his eyes fervent on her own while he ghosts a hand over her wound, where the skin is still new and pink, frail despite no longer needing to be held together by stitches.

"I promise."

He smiles then, and kisses her, his arm wounding around her and holding her in place while he slowly ravishes her mouth, her neck, her collarbone, tongue leaving a wet trail on her skin that he retraces with his lips when he moves back up, suckling kisses on her jaw, delighting in the low hum she lets out into his mouth when he meets it again.

They're on their backs, heads turned sideways into each other, but he moves to hover above her, leaning down low enough to bite and suck at the swell of her right breast, nudging the soft mound out from her silk cami so he can catch her nipple, lips closing around it just so, sucking hard enough to make her thrash under him, wet, firm presses of his tongue on the pert peak eliciting a perfect symphony of moans and gasps that have him hardening more and more.

Her hand had fallen limp at her side when he'd moved to drop kisses all over her, but it regains its purpose when he falls back on the bed beside her, her fingers finding the outline of his shaft over his pants and closing around it, moving slowly, dragging the fabric up and down as he feels himself getting stiff and hot and absolutely ravenous in his desire for her, his hands moving to get rid of her clothes immediately.

"Robin," she breathes against him when they part from their kiss and she's naked under him, tongue licking at his upper lip in that maddening way she always does, "I want your mouth."

"Your wish is my command, your majesty," he teases with a smirk, moving down, down, down as he showers kisses over her body, pausing on the scar from her surgery so he can cover the area in sweet pecks before continuing on his way south, until the tip of his nose is grazing the inside of her thighs, his tongue tracing the path to her sex, folds already glistening with her arousal, a cursory rub of his thumb on her clit riling her up before he licks at her, slow and tender, sucking the little nub into his mouth while he looks up at her, the sight before him one fit for the gods.

Her mouth is parted, eyes closed as she rams her head back against the pillow, her back arching, hips circling into his mouth, following the languid strokes of his tongue. He abandons his spot then, moves back to kiss up her body again, reaching her mouth and snogging her proper, his mouth sloppy on hers, their combined moans filling the room before he moves down to her neck, laving his tongue there again, sucking at the crook, hissing when her hips jerk up against his, her sex rubbing just over the tip of his cock, the thin cotton of his pajama pants the only barrier between them.

"God, I can't wait to feel you inside me," she mumbles as she peppers kisses up his neck, nipping at his chin before taking his mouth again, her lips wet and warm as they suck at his tongue. He grunts in response, kisses back just as fiercely, and then scoots down once more, finding her glistening and divine as he spreads her open with his fingers and plunges his tongue inside her.

"So wet already," he comments when he gives his mouth a short break, allowing his fingers to push into her, and the sound that they make as they move in the liquid arousal of her, the feel of her tightening around them as he shoves them in and out, the smell of sex and sweat as it starts to take over, it all has him moaning, burying his face between her legs again for more vigorous licks and hard sucks at her clit. He wants her to scream, to come on his tongue as she yells out his name, and the thought, the image of her convulsing above him as he keeps suckling and lapping at her has him shoving a hand inside his pants, rubbing his already straining erection in hurried pumps, thumb spreading the bead of precum over his tip.

"I can't wait to be inside you, either," he tells her, "I'm hard just thinking about it, of you moving like this as you come on my cock. I've missed you so much, Regina."

She answers with a sound that he can only compare to a mewl as his fingers and mouth join in their efforts, until she's digging her nails into the mattress on either side of her, a squeal of "Yes! Yes! Right there! Don't stop!" adding to the wet slap of his hand against her, and then she's coming with a loud shout of "Robin!" and erratically writhing underneath him, her hips rolling wildly against his tongue. He doesn't let up, doesn't stop the press of his fingers inside her, keeps sucking the leaking evidence of her orgasm as her heavy breathing permeates the air around him, her hand lost in his hair, pulling and scratching, the pleasurable sensation adding to his own satisfaction.

When he finally pulls his mouth away from her and looks up, he finds her spent and beautiful above him, chuckling for a moment when she sees him.

"What is it?" he asks, curious.

"Come here," she whispers, crooking a finger to beckon him to her. Robin goes willingly, ready to kiss her when she stops him just shy of her lips, runs a thumb over his mouth, his chin, revealing the reason for her amusement.

"You're all wet," she tells him, still chuckling a bit as she wipes herself away from his face, then pushes his head towards her, guiding his mouth to hers to claim that kiss she'd deprived him of just seconds earlier.

He laughs into it, kisses her back and tangles his tongue with hers in leisurely strokes, his once-injured arm resting steady against the mattress, to keep his weight off of her while his other hand seeks out her nipple, gently pulling and rolling it between thumb and forefinger while the rest of his hand kneads and gropes the swell, switching then to the other breast and bestowing the same attention on it, loving the way Regina's body responds to him instantly, her breathing becoming shallow once again as she drags her ankles down his legs, pushing at his pants to help him get them off, until he's bare and snug against her, his cock twitching as he guides it in, pushing his way into her wet heat and moaning at the feel of her, tight and wet and perfect around him.

His thrusts start slow, measured, trying to prolong the delicious feeling of being inside her after so long, after so much heartache and tragedy, but that same nostalgic determination is what has him picking up the pace not long after, needing to feel her, wild and alive and _there_ with him. Regina doesn't seem to mind, gasps louder and louder, letting out a high-pitched moan when he tilts just so and finds that spot that drives her wild, ramming his hips into hers over and over again, hitting that same spot with every thrust, watching her tits bounce, her hand groping at one as she tells him to go harder.

"I don't want to hurt you," he tells her, worrying it might cause her discomfort.

"Babe," she breathes as he keeps moving, "I'm okay, I'm - _mmh!_ \- not in pain, I promised I'd - _oh, god!_ \- I'd tell you if I was."

"Are you sure?" he asks, and her vigorous nod is accompanied by another moan, her teeth digging into her bottom lip as she gyrates her hips to meet his next thrust.

"I'm fine, just..." she trails off on a whimper and a low _Mmm_ , grabbing his face and bringing it down towards her, until their foreheads are touching and she rasps the next words against his lips, "I love you, and I want you to _fuck_ me, Robin."

Well, if she insists.

He rises, turns over until he's on his side on the bed, his chest pressing into her arm.

"What are you doing?" she asks, a little indignant at the unceremonious way he's just pulled out of her.

"I'm going to fuck you," he tells her, his voice scratchy and low in her ear before he grazes his teeth over the lobe, "turn around, love."

She does, her neck resting on the arm he's left stretched out on the mattress beneath her, her back pressing into his chest, her healed wound on display for him as he grabs her waist with his free hand and tilts it against him, her delectable arse pressing just over his cock as he moves his hand between them and finds his way inside her again, that hand then moving back to hold on to her waist as he tucks his face into her neck and kisses there, finding her mouth when she turns her head to seek him.

Robin resumes his thrusting, this time pistoning in and out of her hard and fast, jostling the bed to the point that it squeaks as he keeps going, bending his elbow around the back of her neck slightly when she grabs his hand, her mouth still passionate and wet on his as he goes harder and harder, until Regina pries her mouth away from his in a groan.

"Fuck, you feel so good!" she all but shouts, moving her hips back and forth on his every thrust, intensifying every single sensation as he hits that spot inside her again and again.

"So beautiful, so wet," he rasps, "god, you feel fucking fantastic."

"Robin," she gasps as she squeezes tighter at the hand of his she's holding, "I'm so close, so cl- _oh, fuck!_ \- make me come, I need to come."

His hand abandons her waist, moves over her stomach (being careful not to touch the wound too brusquely, lest he pull her out of the moment and causes her pain), his fingers playing with her clit as he keeps moving in and out of her, rubbing fiercely, delighting in the pleasured screams that spill out of her as he does, her teeth biting at his lower lip on a particularly hard roll of his hips into her, their skin slapping together, echoing in the quiet of the room.

"I'm gonna come," she announces, "don't stop, I'm gonna- I'm- I'm- _oh, god!_ "

She squeezes around him, the angle heightening the sensation of her orgasm as it springs free from its tight coil inside her, and it only takes him a couple more thrusts before he's coming, too, hard and hot within her, grunting her name and trembling with the raw pleasure of it, blindly reaching for her mouth, his tongue dancing against hers, lips sucking and kissing and hovering, his quickened pulse thumping in his ears as their shallow breaths mingle, his hand abandoning her sex in favor of her face, one finger making its unhurried way down the slope of her nose, landing on her lips, which she puckers against the pad of it in a sweet kiss.

He pulls out of her as they roll over and away from each other, Regina burrowing against the soft sheets while Robin finds the pack of baby wipes he'd left in the bedside drawer, grabbing a few of the moistened towels and using them to clean her up, then himself.

When he's done, and has dropped the things in the trash, he draws Regina into his arms, kissing her brow and burying his nose in her hair, basking in its lavender smell as he drops another kiss there, then ducking his head to press his nose against her cheek, his forehead against her temple. It's only for a moment, and then Regina is shifting to get more comfortable, her head on his chest, nose smudged there against him as she takes a deep breath, and then speaks into his skin.

"Move in with me," she mumbles, and he can't be sure he heard the words correctly, muffled as they are by her position, so he parts from her, gives her a confused look that is met with a smile on her beautiful lips.

"Regina?" he asks.

"Move here. To my room, be with me. I want you by my side while I govern this country."

He's stunned by her request, can't even find a way to reply before she's talking again.

"We can move Roland to the room next door. We can be a family. I meant what I said today, Robin, I don't want to hide anymore."

It's everything he's ever wanted to hear, a dream come true as far as he's concerned, but he's worried that this decision may be coming from fear rather than love, because she's just gone and told the entire population of the United States that she's with him, and the consequences of that have yet to be seen.

"Won't this hurt your career? We don't know yet how people are taking the news, I don't want you to-"

She stops him with a finger on his lips, her tone resolute as she explains her reasoning.

"It's only a scandal because I'm a woman, and I refuse to fall into that any longer. I've been widowed for over four years, if anyone has a problem with me finding love again, they can take it up with their local representative," she tells him, winking at the last bit, and Robin chuckles and kisses her, long and fierce, his happiness radiating into the exchange.

"I'd love to move in with you," he tells her when they part, and Regina grins.

"Good, because I've already told Tuck to have your things moved here in the morning," she confesses.

"Am I really that predictable?"

"No," she says with a giggle, giving him a brief, sweet kiss before she adds, "but I'm the _president_ , you can't refuse me."

His laughter joins with hers as he kisses her once more, and then they lose themselves in each other again.

* * *

Robin's been living in the presidential suite for over a month when he is finally able to plan everything exactly, perfectly right.

Their relationship has been on the front page of every tabloid after Regina's speech, awakening the fascination of the people, to the point where one would think this is some Hollywood romance rather than two people in love who've been through some very frightful events. Regina's been dealing with the brunt of it for the most part, being such a notorious public figure, but she's held her head high and defended her feelings for him in such a fierce way that all of America now seems to be enamored by them, and while it's nice to have their approval, it's not something Robin needs, and it annoys him that details of their relationship are now the hot commodity with the press, meaning Regina has to do more public engagements on her own, so that the focus isn't shifted too much from her presidential duties to her love life.

But while all of that is going on, Robin lives in complete and utter bliss. He focuses on his son, on Regina, on making each day count and making her as happy as he can, and he enjoys every second of it. Tonight is different, though. Tonight is important in many other ways.

He's promised her a dance. A moment in time where he'd make that dream of hers (the good part, at least) into a beautiful reality that would obliterate any fears she may have left after the ordeal they've gone through, and the moment itself is better than anything he'd have expected.

Ruby finds the perfect dress, long and red like Regina described wearing in her dream, and Belle and Ashley take care of decorations while Chef Lucas and Roland work on dinner. The night is splendid, with good wine and good food, and just the two of them, sitting together in the grand dining room, smiling and sharing occasional kisses that are sweet and chaste, but make his heart stutter all the same. They eat one-handed, not wanting to let go of each other, his thumb running along hers where their joint hands rest on top of the table, right between their plates.

He's nervous when the music begins to play, a soft melody in the background, played through the speakers that sit on the very end of the room. Regina raises a curious eyebrow at him.

"I'd have brought the string quartet, but I find I want you all to myself tonight, so you get a string quartet playlist instead," he winks, smiling.

"What a coincidence, I want you all to myself, too," she replies, easily agreeing, and it settles his nerves somewhat, has him clutching his suit jacket pocket in an instinctive reaction, and then he's rising, extending his hand to her and helping her up, one hand moving to her waist, the other to hold hers...

...and then they dance.

He's been taking waltzing lessons with David's wife for just this purpose (Mary Margaret hadn't really given him that much of a choice, had thought it unbelievably romantic that he wanted to learn, and declared she would teach him), so he's spent the better part of the last three weeks prancing around the Nolans' house, trying to keep his steps light and rhythmic, but while the charming Mrs. Nolan looks graceful and princess-like, Robin himself looks like a drunken goose, choppy as his movements are in comparison to his teacher's.

It doesn't feel choppy now, though, not with Regina in his arms, gliding beautifully in perfect time to the music, making it seem like they're floating over a giant ballroom, as opposed to the cramped space next to the dinner table. He gets so caught up in looking at her that he falters in his timing at one point, stops just shy of stepping on her, interrupting the easy one-two-three they'd had going until then, but she laughs, moves closer and kisses his cheek.

"You're a terrible dancer, babe," she mocks, her eyes warm.

"Hey!" he protests, but her hand lets go of his and reaches up to cup his cheek, her smile still bright and dazzling.

"But I love you for trying," she adds, leaning in to kiss him.

He's not used to this, not used to her being so... open, but it pleases him greatly, makes what he's about to do even easier.

He grabs the little remote on the end table to mute the music down after two songs, and when peaceful quiet encompasses them again, Regina's hand comes to rest on his chest, right over his jacket pocket, her face scrunching up adorably at the strange lump she feels there.

"What's this?" she asks, and Robin sighs, grins at her and then takes both her hands in his. It's time.

"I've been wanting to ask you something," he tells her as he kisses her knuckles, then drops her hands as he kneels before her, pulling out the small box and opening it.

They've discussed marriage hundreds of times, more so in the last few weeks, his move into her chambers cementing what they've both been saying for so long in gestures and secret touches: they're it for each other.

So he shouldn't be nervous, he knows she'll say yes, but there's still this jittery feeling in his stomach as he watches her, gauging her reaction to the ring.

She'd told him during their many talks that she refused to pick her own ring, insisting it would ruin the thrill of it if she knew what it looked like, so it had been left up to him to decide what to get her. It'd been nerve-wrecking, trying to pick something perfect while remaining covert, but Ruby had helped with that. She'd called in some favors at Cartier, and two weeks ago, she'd had one of their higher-ups (a young man named Peter she seems to fancy), show up at the White House with some options for Robin to choose from. Regina had been at a luncheon with members of the EPA, offering him the perfect moment to browse through the stunning collection of unique vintage rings Peter had brought over.

In the end, he'd picked a lovely 1930s piece, a cushion cut diamond set in a white gold band, with a tapered baguette diamond accent on either side. Something simple, tasteful, and he's been dying to give it to her, to see it catch the light on her finger.

He can see that she's surprised, because she probably hadn't expected him to propose so soon, but they've been together for over two years now, survived two assassination attempts and the scrutiny of the world, what's the point in waiting, really?

Tears brim in her lovely brown eyes, her face flushed as she waits for him to speak.

"After everything we've been through, I don't think there are words left to describe what you mean to me, how much joy you bring to my life... so I figured maybe some carats would do the trick," he quips to calm his nerves, making her breathe out a laugh, and then the words are there, suddenly ready to spill from his mouth, and he looks into her eyes as he tells her, "I have loved you from the first moment I saw you, and I will continue to love you every moment of my life, if you'll let me. Will you marry me, Regina?"

"Yes," she croaks, those tears now falling down her cheeks as he takes the ring from its box and places it on her finger. A perfect fit.

She looks at it, moves her hand this way and that, admiring the jewel as it glints with the muted glow from the two lamps they've left on during their meal.

"Beautiful," she breathes, and Robin looks up into her eyes, too mesmerized by her to stand.

"Yes, you are," he says, loving the soft smile she gives him in response.

"We're getting married," she whispers then, awed.

"Yes, we are, Mrs. Locksley," he teases with a smirk.

Robin moves to get up, but before he does, he's assaulted by red fabric as Regina launches herself at him, and he falls on his back on the carpeted floor with Regina atop him, her lips landing kisses wherever she can reach, making him chuckle as he wraps his arms around her waist, her own giggles joining in as he returns each kiss, her breath warm against his skin as they laugh and make out like teenagers right there on the dining room floor, just because they can, until that laughter dies down, transforming into a few minutes of quiet contemplation with goofy smiles and gentle touches, Robin's fingers tangling in her hair.

"I love you," she whispers, lips pulling up at the corners as her hand plays with the hair near his temple, then drags down to caress his jaw, fingers running over his stubble.

"I love you, too," he immediately responds, stretching his head up to take her lips again.

* * *

The wedding takes place in the Spring, a little under a year after he proposes, and every moment is magical, made all the more so to Robin when he steps back for a moment and watches his gorgeous bride dance with his son in her arms, the two of them laughing together, Roland in his little tux, his tiny bow tie askew, and Regina in the beautiful gown she'd chosen to walk down the aisle, the skirt of it swirling slightly as she bounces and sways the boy in a wacky fashion, completely at odds with the slow rhythm of the music.

His most ardent wish has come true, Robin realizes, he finally gets to build a life with the woman he loves, and it hits him then, as he sees mother and child kiss the tip of each other's noses, that no matter what happens, this is it, this is his world from now on... a place full of love, laughter, and wonderful moments with his son and his _wife._

Robin smiles and rejoins his family, ready for this most marvelous of adventures.


	14. Epilogue

**_We've reached the eeeeeeeeeeennnndddd! For real this time._**

 ** _I'm keeping the MP Chronicles story open so I can post any Tumblr prompts for this verse on there, so subscribe if you want to keep up with those (as it stands, that one has more chapters than the actual MP story). Right now, I'm actually working on their wedding/wedding night, so keep an eye out for that in MPC._**

 ** _I'm so sad to see this story go, but I hope you guys have enjoyed the ride as much as I have. Thank you so much for the continued support and for all your fun reviews!_**

 ** _Now, for a bit of news: I've a n_** ** _ew AU multi-chapter story coming up during summer hiatus (we need SOMETHING to tide us over til the new season, right?). I'm excited to see what you guys think of it!  
_**

 ** _And now, without further ado, your epilogue._**

* * *

On Regina's last morning at the White House, Robin wakes her up by tracing a line of kisses up her naked back, reveling in the sleepy _Mmm_ she gives him as she shivers pleasantly beneath him, the soft sheets draped over her lower body, caressing the curve of her rear.

"Time to get up, Madam President," he teases, kissing her shoulder blade, her hair, his hand running a path down her spine.

"Mmm," she says again, a little more annoyed this time, and Robin chuckles.

"We have a breakfast date with Roland and the staff before we go, remember?"

He feels her sigh into the pillow, her face smashing further into it, one arm dragging from its current position under it to reach out for him. He allows her fingers to find his wrist, and laughs when she pulls him toward her with a noise that can only be considered a whine, bringing his arm over her waist and shifting so that her back is pressed against his chest.

"Regina," he tries again.

"If you wanted me to get up so early, you should've let me sleep last night," she admonishes, still refusing to open her eyes, and he supposes she's right, but oh, what a night it had been.

He'd kept her up, yes, had decided that their last night in the presidential suite should be spent with her naked and panting as he gave her as many orgasms as he could. He'd managed five, the last of which had been just in time with his loud moan as he'd spilled himself inside her, and then she'd fallen asleep, sweaty and sated and gorgeous.

"I didn't hear you complain," he ventures smugly.

"Well, I'm complaining now," she protests, burrowing even further into the pillow, her breathing starting to deepen again.

"Come on, my love," he insists, nudging her hair back with his nose until he can place a kiss on her neck. "I'm about to head into the shower, I'll wash your hair if you join me."

That seems to get her attention, has her perking up and turning to look at him, her eyes hooded and tired, but open now, at least.

"You don't play fair," she tells him, scrunching up her nose and scowling at him. Robin smirks, kisses her cheek, and then abandons the bed, standing before her in his boxers and waiting, with his hand outstretched for her to take it.

She doesn't, rises and stumbles naked around the bed towards the bathroom, annoyed with him for disturbing her rest.

She's distracted during their shower, seems lost in thought the entire time. His fingers massaging her scalp as he works the shampoo out of her hair relax her, but don't elicit the satisfied little moans they usually do, and he worries for a second that she might really be angry with him, but when he squeezes her shoulder in quiet support, her head tilts to the side, her cheek pressing affectionately into his hand. Not him, then, just the day.

They dress in silence, but her breath hitches when he reaches for her, hugs her to his chest and holds her tight.

"You don't have to go if you don't want to, I can tell them you're not feeling well."

"I do want to go," she says quietly, "I just feel... off."

"Take a minute," he sighs, dropping a kiss on her forehead. "I'll tell them you're running a bit late, they'll wait."

"I don't want them to think I'm blowing them off."

"Then I'll wait for you in the living room, go down together, and we'll blame your tardiness on your sleepy husband," he reassures her with a grin, one that she thankfully returns before he walks backwards to the door until their hands lose contact, and then he turns and leaves her to her thoughts.

They're only ten minutes late to breakfast, but he takes the blame anyway, sits there and endures the stern chastising from Chef Lucas while Regina smiles guiltily at him. He winks at her, brings her hand to his lips to land a kiss on her knuckles, and watches as she thanks them all, touched by their gesture of giving her one last breakfast at the White House. Ruby smiles, tells her it was their pleasure, and that she'll miss her terribly, and the affair becomes quiet after that, all of them a little sad now that their leaving has been mentioned.

It's been a wild ride, these last few years. Ursula had been the one to hire Sidney Glass all those years ago, so she'd felt partly responsible for what had happened to Regina, despite their many reassurances that she wasn't, and had quit after Robin moved into the presidential suite. Her vacant spot had been filled by him, of all people, and since his new title was announced so soon after the shooting (thanks to Elsa's strategic thinking), the people had offered encouragement and support, rather than accusations of nepotism. He'd made quite a few blunders while on the job, but Regina never wavered in her decision, had allowed him the time to get used to his new duties and kissed away his worries while he figured things out.

After they got married, her job became more demanding than ever, with new beginnings and constant struggles, the ever pressing threat of outside forces, diplomatic and not-so-diplomatic affairs, resolving administrative problems and budget discrepancies, juggling the granting of resources for different government agencies, updating foreign policy, providing support to communities in need, proposing reforms for different laws and financial issues, attending press conferences, business luncheons, meetings, public appearances, interviews, and every other possible component of the tiny little task that is running the most powerful country in the world. Regina's taken it in stride, has done an impeccable job and managed to close her term with one of the most successful presidencies in recent years, beloved by the people and respected by the rest of government.

When the time came for the elections, she'd proudly watched as the vote count declared David Nolan as the new president, following in her footsteps. Regina had been all too happy to pass the torch to her friend, and her smile had been big and bright during the inauguration yesterday. She'd had a long, private conversation with David, during the celebratory luncheon Mary Margaret held at the VP's estate the day after he won, and then she'd hugged him goodbye and offered her sincere congratulations. She'd been truly ecstatic.

Still, it seems the thrill of having her friend run the White House is gone, now that she seems to realize that this means _she_ won't, and it reflects on her behavior throughout the day, her mood gloomy and silent as she meanders the halls and looks at the many paintings lining the walls, stops by the different rooms and reminisces about her time there.

When the car arrives to pick them up, Robin goes in search for her, finds her standing in the middle of the oval office, staring wistfully at the desk, bare and foreboding now that it's not cluttered with her things. She's holding a picture frame in her hands, one that he knows well, it holds a photo of him and Roland, all smiles and happiness as they look into the camera she'd been holding during one of their picnics in the greenhouses. He loves that picture, it'd been the first thing that had gone on Regina's desk after their relationship stopped being a secret, a true mark of the freedom of finally being together with no regard for anyone's thoughts on the matter.

"Is it time?" she asks without turning to look at him.

"I'm afraid so," he answers, his voice low in the quiet space.

Regina takes a deep breath, her free hand trailing over the smooth wooden surface of her desk, and Robin quietly makes his way over to her, wraps his arms around her waist from behind and rests his chin on her shoulder.

"You know, you can always run again next election," he tells her, only half joking, and she gives him a little chuckle, leans back further into his embrace.

"I just can't believe it went by so fast," she admits.

"You're going to miss it, aren't you?" he asks.

"I thought I would, but... "

"But?" he asks as she turns around and places a hand on his cheek.

"But I won't. Not really. Because I'm taking the best part with me," she says, her gaze soft.

Robin smiles.

"I love you," he tells her, kisses her lips and then steps back, giving her a moment, the picture frame now held securely in his hands.

He watches her give one last high-heeled walk around the room, her chest heaving once as she takes a deep breath and heads toward him, smiling through teary eyes.

When everything is ready to go and they head out the main gate, Robin is surprised to see the staff waiting for them. Ashley is back in Maine visiting some friends, and will rejoin them once they've settled into their new home, but Elsa, Emma, Chef Lucas, Ruby, Belle, John, and Tuck are all there, smiling sadly.

Robin and Regina drift towards Elsa first, while Roland excitedly runs towards Ruby and Belle, laughs when they hug him and give him recipes for snacks he can carry in his lunchbag. Starting next week, he'll be continuing the fourth grade at a new school, since he wasn't too fond of the first one, and the girls are as excited for him as he is. They laugh when Roland tells them he'll make Thanksgiving dinner this year when they visit, and then Chef Lucas steps in and informs him that no, he won't, _she_ will, because it's tradition, but he can help like he always does, and his boy agrees with a toothy smile and then jumps into the older woman's arms in a fierce goodbye hug, catching her by surprise and making her a little misty-eyed.

They exchange farewells with them all, and then Robin and Regina simply stand there, his hand rubbing at the small of her back, her head resting against his shoulder as they watch Roland being held and embraced by everyone.

"Didn't think I'd let you leave without saying goodbye, would you?" a bored voice says from behind them, and they turn to find Mal at the front door they've just walked out of, her short hair arranged, as always, in perfectly crafted curls pinned away from her face, a style she'd chosen to suit her uniform. She'd been recruited for the presidential security team by Emma Swan after the shooting, and David's first decision after winning the election had been to make Mal the new Head of the Secret Service, with Emma now serving as his Chief of Staff.

"That's awfully sentimental of you, Mal," Regina teases her from where she stands beside him.

"Yeah, don't tell me you've gone soft," Robin jokes, smirking when The Dragon graces him with one of her deadly glares, then shifts her gaze to Regina.

"Shut up and give me a hug before I regret coming out here," she half-snaps, and then his wife is leaving his side with a chuckle and wrapping her arms around her friend's shoulders.

"Thank you," she whispers shakily, "for all of it."

Mal holds on tighter.

* * *

They're hugging and arranging final details on future visits even as they get into the car, Roland staring out the window and waving goodbye as they speed away from what's been their home for the past four years. Robin sees Regina shed a few tears as the car reaches the entry gates, and he wraps his arm around her, kissing her forehead as he remembers everything they went through while they were here, wonders at all the possibilities that lie ahead.

They've decided to take a year off, so they can properly enjoy being a family before his incredible wife takes up her new position as Attorney General, something she and David have discussed at length several times since he won the election. He'll be appointing a temporary officer while she's away, and then it'll be Regina's turn, with Robin working as her Chief of Staff, just as he's done since Ursula left.

The car is almost out of Pennsylvania Avenue now, and Robin thinks about everything that's brought them to this very moment, all the things they've done, all the experiences they've had and what has come of them, thinks of the plane tickets to Hawaii he plans to surprise her with later tonight, of the many nights he has yet to look forward to with her in his arms, and he realizes that while their journey may not have been smooth, it's definitely been worth it, because this is their happiness, and now they get to enjoy every minute of it.

"What are you thinking about?" she whispers in his ear, while Roland pokes his head around the front seat and discusses music options with their driver.

"You," he tells her, tugging her closer, "how much I love you, how happy you and Roland make me, what it took to get us here."

"Any regrets?" she asks, her eyes sparkling as she looks up at him, her hand on his chest.

Robin smiles, bumps his nose with hers softly and kisses her lips languidly before he answers.

"None."

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

-THE END-


End file.
